Jason Williams and the Olympians: The Rising Stars
by Maecenas
Summary: The Second Great Prophecy has begun, and new demigods are constantly appearing at Camp Half-Blood. When one of them, Jason Williams, arrives from Philadelphia, winter grips Camp Half-Blood in the middle of May, and everything begins to change. Currently undergoing maintenance/revision.
1. A Saxophone Player Saves my Life

**Disclaimer: The author of this story reminds you that he owns neither Camp Half-Blood—as that honor goes to Dionysus—nor the previous publications concerning it, which were penned by Camp Half-Blood Senior Scribe Rick Riordan. He is merely a respectful demigod trying to bring more accounts of our world to the general public.**

** Furthermore, the gods of Mount Olympus are most certainly nothing but works of ancient fiction. May they go with you nevertheless.**

** -Chiron Kentauros**

** Activities Director, Camp Half-Blood**

* * *

Chapter One: A Saxophone Player Saves My Life

As you begin to read this, allow me to warn you that being a half-blood isn't always the greatest thing in the world.

Actually, it's not a bad thing all of the time. If you like a little spice in your life, a bit of danger, and you aren't the subject of too many unfortunate prophecies, it can all even out fairly well. I've had a lot of fun over the past few months here at camp when I haven't been fighting Furies and hydras and rabid hellhounds. But between the good times—campfire songs with the Apollo cabin, capture the flag, beating Mr. D at pinochle, and just hanging out and talking with my friends—there's, well, fighting Furies and hydras and rabid hellhounds. And trust me, Hercules made all that look a lot easier than it really is.

I'm sure that despite my warning you're still reading this, and I don't blame you in the slightest. I'm painfully aware of the degree to which I'm wrecking the narrative by putting all of these caveats in when I'm supposed to be drawing you into the story, and in a moment I'll back up and begin things properly, but nonetheless Chiron has asked me to warn you of this: if, when reading this story, you begin to suspect that what I describe is something that is happening to you now—if you begin to wonder if you, yourself, may be a half-blood-it's probably an excellent idea to step away from the book or screen slowly, go back to real life, and forget about the whole thing as best you can. Better safe than sorry. And if you persist and find out you're a demigod anyway, welcome to Camp Half-Blood. Dinner is in the pavilion at 6:30, and whatever you do be sure to steer clear of Mr. D if he's around.

Man, I hate disclaimers like this one. Well, now that that's all over with, let's get this thing started and start it right.

My name is Jason Williams, and this is the story of how my friends and I sort of accidentally changed the world.

* * *

At the time this all began I was living in suburban Philadelphia with my dad, Ted Williams, who's the well-known founder of an up-and-coming tech company called Asgardian Software. Despite his suddenly having become a member of Philly High Society a few years ago when the company took off, none of it has gone to his head, and he's a great guy, really. We've always gotten along very well. According to him, my mom left us years ago before I was old enough to remember her. This, of course, was a depressing state of affairs, but I did my best to stay positive.

I'm around five-eight and relatively thin, with long-ish blond hair and gray eyes. I've often been described as a brain—or a geek, a nerd and an inept klutz, when those describing me are in less of a good mood—and it doesn't take a lot of self-examination for me to know just how true all of that is. My GPA is an immaculate 4.0—many thanks to no required Phys. Ed courses in high school—I've done several academic competitions—spelling bees, forensics and so on—with some success in the past—and the one time in my life I attempted to take part in a basketball game, well…the best that can be said is that I regained consciousness eventually, but I guess all's well that ends well.

To protect identities and all that, I won't mention specifically the name of the high school I attend, but I will go so far as to say that it's a pretty upper-crust prep school in downtown Philly that offers some really nice elective classes and activities. By April of freshman year, I was a member of the debate team, as well as second clarinet in the band, a regular contributor to the school newspaper, and getting my usual good grades while still making several friends and getting to know my new class. Although I was diagnosed with mild dyslexia at the age of seven, which can get totally galling at times, I love reading and I've more or less managed to overcome it in the years since. This year, I was reading steadily through Great Expectations as an end-of-semester project of my own.

It sounds like a good life, and it was. At the time, things were going far better for me than I'd ever expected, and my year as a Philly Phreshman (and trust me, that ridiculous moniker is most definitely _not _my fault) had been a good one. However, that's not to say that I still noticed some very strange things on occasion, like I usually do. I can't explain it—or that is to say, I couldn't at the time—but every now and then I seemed to catch a glimpse of something really weird and seemingly impossible.

Once, I thought I saw a dragon—an actual dragon, with golden scales and huge claws—fly past a downtown Philly skyscraper and disappear on a crisp morning last October, and spent about a week seriously considering the possibility that I'd gone completely nuts. Another time I ran into two huge guys who looked to be about eight feet tall and who were alike enough to be twins, who had walked past me a few yards away, bickering and uprooting entire trees and bushes that got in their way. That one was a little easier to skate over, but for years afterward I'd find myself pausing and staring thoughtfully at the little patch of dirt where one of the trees had been. At the time I put both incidents down to the dyslexia acting up—this may not seem like such a rational explanation, but what else can you do when you're faced with the impossible and you don't have the Ghostbusters on your speed dial? I had to believe something to explain it all—and tried very hard not to think much about it afterwards. Later, of course, I would know better.

* * *

The trouble all really started on April thirteenth, a cloudy Friday afternoon. It was lunch hour, and I was sitting by myself at the end of a cafeteria table, reflecting on a week well-spent and chowing down on a Philly cheesesteak (it's cliché, I know, but I love 'em and our school cafeteria makes them better than just about anywhere else on Earth). Suddenly, a sophomore named Flint Greenbaum walked up and slid onto the bench next to me.

"Hey, man." I looked up and muttered something or other in greeting. Flint was a tenor saxophone player of that particular class of lovable eccentrics that gave the school so much of its character. I'm sure yours has them, too—they wear old-fashioned hats, crack inside jokes, play guitar really badly, and launch impromptu comedy routines in the hallways whenever they feel things are getting too boring—or maybe that's just the way their conversations go normally, I don't know. But they're good guys at heart, you can count on them for a friendly conversation or to lend a favor, and goodness knows they keep things interesting.

This particular morning, though, Flint was looking nervous, which was unusual for him. His fedora was askew, and he kept anxiously twisting the class ring on his finger. Also, his cafeteria tray held a cheese enchilada, which was odd since they weren't on the day's menu. I figured that maybe he'd sweet-talked the lunch ladies into it—that seemed like it might be the kind of thing he would do—but nonetheless, it contributed to my feeling that something decidedly odd was afoot.

I gradually began to recall that Flint had been acting kind of strange all week—he'd seemed unusually subdued, and the previous day he'd come to a screeching halt in the hallway, stared at me for a few seconds, done a huge double take, and sprinted off as fast as he could. As a nerd I'm pretty accustomed to being made fun of, but I didn't know what Flint was up to this time.

Flint sniffed the air intently as if the cafeteria smelled good, which it did, but something about the gesture still seemed off somehow. "Jason, does something around here seem kind of odd to you?"

I just couldn't resist a hanging curveball like that, especially not from Flint, and jumped at the chance to break the tension. "Well, yes, but _besides_ you…"

He gave a quick laugh, but it sounded more than a little unhinged. "Oh. Oh yeah, that's great. Seriously, though? It's like there's something in the air today, something ominous. You picking up on any of that?"

Maybe it was just the way he was acting influencing my thinking, but for a brief moment I thought I sensed something as well—a shivering down my spine, and a feeling of anticipation hanging in the air, as if something huge was about to happen.

I frowned. Instead of disappearing, like I'd assumed it would, the sense of foreboding seemed to get stronger. "Hmmm. I'm not sure," I said eventually. Despite the weird feeling I was getting, the rational-thinking part of my brain, though in something of a minority, was warning me that I could be walking right into an extended Flint-and-Company practical joke.

If so, Flint was certainly an amazing actor, because right now he looked close to absolute panic. "N-no, really! I"—

And right on cue, the lights of the cafeteria went out, plunging us all into darkness.

The room went completely pitch-black right away, and all of the natural light that was streaming through the windows was extinguished. It was completely impossible to see anything at all. Looking back on the occurrence later, I was to conclude that the darkness must have been caused artificially or supernaturally—yes, I did say _supernaturally_-as a simple power outage taking place in a room with windows at noon still would have left everyone able to see around them. At the moment, though, I didn't have time for any of these thoughts.

Naturally, pandemonium broke loose almost instantly. Most of the students reacted more or less the way you'd expect a large room full of caffeinated high-schoolers to react to the lights being turned off suddenly. Shrieking, giggling, semi-derisive cheering and so on broke out, one or two cafeteria trays clattered to the floor, and I suspected that the more passionate sweethearts of that lunch period would soon sneak off and start kissing in one or the other of the corners, only to be totally humiliated whenever the lights came back on (where's a chaperone when you need one?).

None of them, however, had the odd sense of approaching doom that had been hanging over me all morning. I jumped up from the table like a rocket, my heart pounding, only to catch my foot on the bench and sprawl forward uncontrollably, landing face first on Flint's cafeteria tray. The refried beans tasted good, it was true, but doing a face-plant into them unexpectedly wasn't on my top ten list of fun ways to spend an afternoon.

Before I had time to begin shaking the salsa out of my hair, or even start complaining—and believe me, I can be pretty quick about that most of the time—Flint, who I'd expected to see laughing hysterically at my mishap, seized me violently by the arm and began literally dragging me out of the cafeteria. I wasn't about to argue, and I followed him as quickly as I could, my mind reeling from being so violently wrenched from its normal routine.

Within a few minutes of dodging tables, stumbling around using the walls for guidance, and tripping over what I think was Will and Jessica making out over by the vending machines (I called it, remember? My classmates can be so predictable sometimes), we burst through the cafeteria doors and stumbled around in the harsh electric lights, getting our bearings. I looked back for a moment towards where we'd come from, which gave me my first real, chilling clue that something much bigger than an odd chain of circumstances and a power outage was going on here. With the doors open there should've been enough light to see into the cafeteria, but beyond those double doors there was nothing but pure darkness, like the room had never been there at all.

I glanced back at Flint, who was clearly in an advanced stage of hysteria—at this point, I was getting there myself. He was shaking like crazy, his square-framed glasses were crooked and behind them something seemed to have changed in his eyes, and he'd gone disconcertingly pale (which unfortunately emphasized his acne and scraggly teenage beard).

After muttering to himself in an extremely unsettling fashion for a few moments—I caught phrases like "Why now...why _them _of all…before we even…Every time…maybe even all three?"—he inhaled sharply, clearly trying to get control of himself, and said, "Come on, Jason! We have to get you out of here right now!" And with that, he dashed off down the hallway.

I followed him. Now, I suppose you're wondering what on earth possessed me to go running off after a suspiciously behaving adolescent in what looked a lot like an already dangerous situation, to which I can only respond that you weren't there at the time. The gut feeling I had that something was very wrong had been getting stronger of late, and while I realize, looking back, that it might have seemed like an irresponsible decision to follow Flint, something just told me to trust him. Later, of course, I would be very glad I did.

Whatever our motivations, we sprinted down three hallways, turned left, and skidded to a halt on the freshly waxed floor tiles at what I recognized as Flint's locker, the halls echoing with our footsteps.

Flint held up his hands in a cautionary gesture. "O-okay, just stay here for a second! I have to go get Biagio!" And with that he was gone, so quickly it seemed more like he'd vanished into thin air rather than run off. I hardly gave this a second's thought, though, because a much stranger matter was currently occupying my mind.

_Biagio d'Amore?_

Once I've described him, perhaps you'll understand why he was absolutely the last person I would've chosen to be associated with any of this.

Biagio is a senior at our school, and one of the richest students ever to walk its halls. He's seventeen and at least six-three, and he has this wavy, flowing amber-colored hair that's right on the perfect median between a rich, honey-like gold and a shining, rusty auburn shade. Now, ordinarily, I hope you realize, I would NEVER describe another guy's appearance that poetically, but I swear he styles his hair for that exact effect. He's one of those unbelievably handsome-looking people—perfect teeth, perfect tan, dreamy eyes—and it probably won't surprise you to learn that he is an absolutely incurable flirt.

Biagio considers the morning wasted if he hasn't flirted with at least five girls by lunchtime, girls regularly get into fistfights before school dances over the rights to ask him, and he has a new girlfriend almost every week. He usually wears—I am _not _kidding about this—a golden tuxedo with a black cummerbund and matching rose pinned to the buttonhole, a look he sometimes completes by wearing sunglasses indoors. He was a pretty funny guy to observe, it was true, but again, I would never have guessed that he had anything to do with whatever was going on. He definitely seemed kind of unreal, it was true, but in a very different way.

For a few more minutes I stood there at Flint's locker, alternating between trying to get the last of the South-of-the-Border Special off of my face, staring detachedly at the floor tiles, and trying to piece together what on Earth was going on. Try as I might, though, I just couldn't find a logical explanation for any of it—Flint's sudden nervousness, which was completely out of character for him, the lights going out, or the increasingly odd feeling I was getting. In addition to the trepidation, I was beginning to get a sense of something familiar—a déjà vu kind of thing. I suddenly remembered getting the same feeling after the weird things I'd seen before, like the giant twins. Perhaps it was my reaction to adrenaline or something, I reasoned, but I couldn't shake the feeling that it was somehow connected to some really old memories, things I'd forgotten almost completely over the years. Shaking my head, I gratefully turned to more practical matters: the school remained quiet, so I supposed the administration was still trying to get the lights on back in the cafeteria.

Flint came running back into view from the history hallway, dragging a Biagio who looked about as confused as I felt behind him. Of course, on him it was a radiantly handsome kind of confusion, something along the lines of what I imagine you'd get if a boy-band star actually tried to _think_.

"What the heck is going on here, you two?" he complained, which sounded quite strange spoken in the affected faux-British accent he was into using in those days.

Flint gave an inarticulate noise of frustration and started doing his locker combination. "No time to explain now! We really need to get both of you out of here. Here"—he wrenched his locker door open, producing, of all things, three skateboards—"grab one, and let's go!"

As I've previously explained, the odd cocktail of emotions, memories, forebodings and mysterious circumstances I'd been experiencing that day had made me throw caution to the winds somewhat, enough to follow Flint here, but there was a limit to it all—a point where my common sense would kick back in—and I was pretty sure Flint had just found it. Besides, have I mentioned that I'm not the best athlete in the world? "Are you nuts? We can't just ride skateboards through the school hallways! What the heck are you even…"

At that moment, something occurred that would change my mind quickly, not to mention changing my life forever. An old lady emerged from the band room and slowly began walking in our direction. At first all I saw was the edge of one of those tennis-ball walkers protruding from the anteroom that connected to the music hallway, followed by the requisite wrinkled face topped with fluffy white hair and a hearing aid. Although I wasn't sure, I thought I recognized her from one of the charitable organizations that had a habit of meeting in our school—octogenarians wandering the hallways tended not to be all that uncommon. I glanced in her direction, then turned back to Flint and Biagio, ready to begin arguing about the whole skateboarding thing again. Then I heard a clattering noise, and looked back in time to see the old granny's walker get away from her and crash into the wall opposite.

I sighed, figuring that at this point perhaps the best thing to do would be just to get away from Flint and Biagio, decide that all the craziness had been nothing more than a coincidental chain of circumstances and head for my next class. I jogged over to the lady, figuring that I could help her over to the office first.

When she saw me, her eyes lit up—not metaphorically, but with what looked like actual flames or live coals. At an unbelievable speed, she dashed towards me, and I finally got a full view of her.

I think I screamed. My mind went blank, and a chill swept through my body, rooting me to the spot. I don't care how cliché that is; it's what happened. The whole world seemed to go out of focus for a second, and when it came back in, I wished it hadn't.

I couldn't believe my eyes, but there it was: the rest of the old lady was some sort of reptilian monster. Her eyes glowed like headlights, leathery draconian wings brushed the walls (knocking crooked a third-place award given to the band in a competition in Washington some six years previously), and horrible claws raked at the air where her hands should've been. The handbag she'd been carrying transformed into a whip glowing like molten lava, which she swung at me and rushed forward.

Biagio screamed something that I think was Italian for "OH MY GOD!" This did seem to be an appropriate response, but I, personally, was far too surprised and terrified to say _anything. _

"_**RUN!" **_Flint shouted unnecessarily. All of a sudden, the skateboards seemed like an awfully good idea after all. Biagio and I both grabbed one and raced down the hallway, Flint ahead of us and the whatever-it-may-have-been in hot pursuit.

Looking back on this experience, I can emphatically state that being chased through an enclosed space by a horrible monster wielding a flaming weapon is NOT a good time to learn to skateboard, but sheer terror has powers of its own. We screeched around a corner, with me going just as fast as my more experienced companions, and suddenly came to a short flight of stairs leading down to the next hallway. We had no choice but to jump it. As the stairs approached, I had exactly enough time to wonder, in the back of my mind, exactly how these crazy situations could even happen.

Being chased through an enclosed space by a horrible monster wielding a flaming weapon is _really, really, __**really**_ not a good time to learn to JUMP while skateboarding, but again, you learn to improvise. We sailed into the air in a split second of even greater terror than before. Flint shouted something in what sounded like Greek or Latin, making the situation seem even more unreal, but at the moment that was the least of my concerns. Fortunately, two of us made a perfect landing and sailed down the science hallway at increased velocity.

Unfortunately, I was the one who didn't. Not surprisingly, I sprawled in a very uncoordinated heap on the ground, my skateboard clattering onto the tiles beside me. Luckily, our pursuer had fallen behind a bit, but a bone-rattling screech echoing through the building told me I still didn't have much time. I leaped back on the board and sped towards Flint and Biagio, thankfully catching up before the monster erupted into the hallway in a mass of flame, rushing towards us like a jet. At least, as much as "thankfully" can apply to a situation like that.

Within what seemed like seconds—it was hard to tell for sure, time passes oddly when your life's in danger—we'd arrived at a door leading out of the school. We would be out of there in seven seconds…six…five…

The monster screeched again and flicked its flaming whip onto the floor, which readily erupted into a line of fire blocking our path. Before we jumped again, I had time for exactly two regrets: that the janitors had chosen this of all weeks to wax the floor, and that I still hadn't learned to jump a skateboard properly.

Three…two…one…

There was a loud crash and an interminable moment of searing heat, and the next second was one of utter confusion.

* * *

I cautiously opened my eyes, noting that I was no longer moving, and found myself staring at a bright patch of sidewalk. The cuffs of my jeans seemed to be smoking, and I did a semi-voluntary little two-step trying to put them out. Something in front of me barked loudly.

Blinking, I looked up to see, of all things, a black dog the size of a garbage truck. Its eyes were a rusty nocturnal red, its fur was thick and matted with a white, roughly triangular patch on its forehead, and it was thumping its tail happily on the ground with enough force to cause a small windstorm. I suddenly noticed that the cuffs of my jeans seemed to be smoking, apparently from the little altercation with the monster a second before, but the dinosaur-sized canine held most of my attention.

We seemed to have gone right out of the frying pan and into the fire, but Flint ran right up to the drooling monster and clambered onto its back, pulling Biagio after him. "Come on, Jason! It's your only chance!" he shouted.

I hesitated for a moment, but then the creature that had been following us burst out of the doors and headed straight for me. That was enough to convince me. Besides, the morning had been so weird that by this point I was ready to believe that a giant black dog the size of a Kodiak bear could be a friendly ally with no problem. Once you start being that impulsive, it's kind of hard to go back to normal quickly.

I clambered onto the gigantic dog's back and clung as tightly to its hide as I could. "Go, Mrs. O'Leary!" Flint shouted, and the thing got slowly to its feet, nearly pitching us off, and began loping down the sidewalk, gathering speed.

By the end of the block we were galloping along—as a cat person, I'd never even known a dog _could _gallop- the wind whistling behind us. Our ride barked, and a shadow spread across the ground unaccountably, seeming to make the pavement just vanish beneath it—just one more impossibility on the indescribably strange ride of that morning. The dog dove into the shadow like a golden retriever after a stick, pulling us along with it. The reptilian thing behind us—was it a _harpy?—_blew a stream of flame after us, but it was snuffed out like a candle in a billow of blue-gray smoke as the shadowy nothingness closed over our heads.

And with that, lunch period ended—with a gigantic, spectral black dog (named Mrs. O'Leary, apparently) pulling myself, a saxophone player with more than a few secrets to hide, and a guy in a suit and corsage into the never-ending darkness.

* * *

**Welcome one and all to the Rising Stars! For those who don't know I'm Maecenas, one of the many wonderful writers of . I have one other story on the site thus far, a Pokemon tournament story called Pok****ѐ****topia****: Gathering of the Heroes. Feel free to check it out!**

**Well, I hope you enjoyed the first chapter. I plan for this to be the first in a full Jason Williams series, just like the Rick Riordan originals, so I'd love to hear your reviews, questions and comments on how it all begins. Jason is a character very similar to myself, so by reading it you should get a fairly good idea of what my personality is like. Also, this is my first time writing in the first-person, so let me know how I did!**

**I'm extremely busy and can't give any definite time for the next chapter to appear, but I've already started it and since I have several vacation days forthcoming, you can look forward to it before too long.**

**Vale! Maecenas out. And welcome back to Camp Half-Blood!**


	2. We Hitch a Ride with a Goat

**Before I proceed with the disclaimer, a note: this and the next chapter were originally going to be a single chapter, but as a lot of important ground is covered it got exceedingly long, and I eventually decided to split it in two. So y'all are in for double the Jason Williams goodness this time! Feel free to review both in one review, or separately if you prefer. Now, here we go!** ~Μαησηνας

**As before, I'm merely a respectful demigod trying to bring more tales of Camp Half-Blood to the general public. I don't own the Percy Jackson series, Camp Half-Blood, Delphi Strawberry Service (although I doubt Mr. D. wants it much), Star Wars, any of the works of Jimmy Buffett or the Bee Gees, or indeed anything but the---um---**_**obviously**_** fictitious plot and characters. And now, on with the chapter: **

Chapter Two: We Hitch a Ride with a Goat

That first episode of shadow travel—which is what I would later learn it was called—was, without question, the worst moment of my life up to that point. It was something like a much more intense version of the second the sharpest drop on a roller coaster or a really intense water slide begins—only what would've just been a few seconds of sheer terror and free-falling, weightless panic there kept going for what felt like an eternity, the shock a thousand times multiplied with every second. When you add the sheer terror I'd started with to the fact that I've never liked roller coasters in the first place, well…not fun. At all. Our surroundings were such a deep black that they made the darkness in the cafeteria that morning seem like a bright and sunny afternoon by comparison, and you couldn't shake the panicky feeling that the fall had somehow made you go completely blind. A cyclone of irrational terrors mixed in with the more rational ones swirled hauntingly through my mind, and just when you felt you might be getting used to it all, a gut-wrenching lurch in another direction would send you back to square one.

And if you think that last paragraph was confusing, that's nothing compared to actually experiencing it.

Biagio screamed the whole time—I'd had no idea how high his voice could go until then—I gave a strangled wail of utter despair that died out before long (it sounded uncannily like an asthmatic cyborg had just informed me that he was my father) and even Flint—who I somehow suspected had done this before—seemed to be hyperventilating. My fingers somehow found what felt like a dog collar attached to our mount a few inches up from my death grip on its fur, and I grabbed onto it gratefully.

It was a good thing that I had. An instant later, we abruptly shot straight upwards at an even greater velocity that we'd been barreling forward and down previously, conveniently answering my unspoken question about what on Earth could be more terrifying. I hung on as tightly as I could, still caught up in sheer terror too wretched to begin to describe and an unearthly wind blasting my face, and presently the darkness began to lessen—I could see my fingers, which had gone totally white, gripping the dog collar, which was made out of an off-gold metal. Bronze, perhaps?

In a rush we burst out of the ground in an explosion of shadowy nothingness (kind of like a champagne cork flying out of a bottle, I imagine), and I let go of Mrs. O' Leary's collar and collapsed to the ground, my whole body shaking uncontrollably and random gasps escaping my mouth.

Biagio remained on his feet somehow, stumbling around woozily. He looked equally rattled, if not more so, and for the first time I could ever remember, his hair was completely messed up and his tuxedo rumpled. Monsters and unreal underground journeys were one thing, but seeing him lose his cool somehow felt even more supernatural. "I…I _really _think I prefer my Ferrari," he choked out after a few seconds.

My senses came back to me gradually and, looking past Biagio, I saw the world slowly starting to swim back into focus. I stood up, shaking my head and feeling exceedingly fragile, and began to take stock of my surroundings.

We appeared to be in the midst of a sort of clearing in an unfamiliar-looking forest, which my gut told me was a good, long way from back in Philly where our journey had started. For one thing, the weather had changed—the wind had picked up considerably, ruffling my hair and Mrs. O' Leary's fur, and the cloud cover had broken up into a whole range of cumulonimbus mountains, which were sailing by silently, allowing sudden, violent bursts of sunshine to break through.

I turned to face Flint, who was looking like his normal calm, slightly jocular self again—now, of all times. I gasped out something that I remember as being along the general lines of "My head! What…we…you…the…just…what was going ON there? What…what happened!"

He tugged at his fedora apologetically. "I'm sorry, Jason, I really am. I know you and Biagio must be seriously freaked out right about now"—

"That's an understatement," Biagio muttered, straightening the black carnation in his buttonhole.

--"And I know you want me to explain what the heck is going on, but it's kind of a long story. I'll tell you everything as soon as our next ride gets here."

A flicker of apprehension shot through me like someone had clicked a lighter. "Oh, great. And just what is our next ride—A HYDRA?!?"

At the mention of the word _hydra_, Mrs. O' Leary pricked up her ears excitedly and thumped her tail on the ground, making the entire clearing rumble. Even after that had died down, the rumbling continued for a few more seconds, as if a jet was passing over the forest.

Flint glanced apprehensively at the sky like he was afraid it was going to start raining, although how he could possibly be worried about inclement weather after a morning of being chased by bloodthirsty monsters, I didn't know. "Careful, Jason. Er—no. We've arranged somewhat more conventional transportation for the rest of the way. We came out here mainly to throw the "Kindly One"—he made air quotes, like I was supposed to know what he meant—"off. We're about halfway to Camp Ha—I mean, we're about halfway there now."

With an air of finality, he tugged at the collar of his spectacularly ugly plaid sweater—which didn't match his neon purple-and-green leggings at all—and stared expectantly into the forest.

All this time, it had been clear that our little hound-back journey through absolute darkness had totally rocked Biagio's world. After recovering from the kneeling-on-the-ground-gasping phase, he'd spent the past several minutes stumbling around the clearing with his arms outstretched and a dazed, glassy expression on his face, like he wasn't sure anymore what was real and what wasn't. Slowly, though, he'd begun to come back to his sense, and this time he was the one to protest at Flint's latest statement, his British accent abruptly replaced by his natural Italian one out of pure shock.

"Just what _is _'conventional' for you people, anyway?!? And who _are _you, in the first place?" he complained. "What was that thing chasing us just now? And where are we? What's this camp you mentioned just now? And how can you…"

Biagio's rapid-fire interrogation was abruptly cut off by the sound of a twig snapping in the woods, so suddenly and conspicuously we might've been in a bad horror movie. Both of us jumped a foot.

We weren't to be kept in suspense much longer. More ominous crunching sounds resounded through the forest, making it clear in a hurry that something very large was approaching us quickly. Biagio and I started edging back nervously, then threw ourselves to the ground simultaneously as whatever it was burst into the clearing in a crash of timber.

After our past experiences that morning I'd been expecting another monster, so I was startled to hear the chugging of an engine fill the air. I got to my feet again, brushing dirt and twigs off of my polo shirt, to see a large white van idling in the midst of the clearing, gleaming in the sun. Painted on the side was a stylized logo that seemed to depict a strawberry field amongst Greek columns at sunrise, with—I squinted—**DELPHI STRAWBERRY SERVICE **written in bold next to it. A fruit van? I groaned. Things were getting weirder by the minute here.

Flint seemed to relax a bit more, his shoulders sagging in relief. "All right, you guys. Our ride is here. Jump in, let's go!" He pulled one of the back doors open and looked at us expectantly.

Biagio and I glanced at each other, alarmed indecision written all over our faces. The situation was an exact mirror of the one that had led to us skateboarding through the school hallways that morning. The same thoughts I'd had then were clearly running through both of our heads now—a battle royale between giving in to the total weirdness of whatever was happening, trusting Flint, and just going with it, or listening to that annoying voice of sanity buried somewhere in the back of our brains. This was a prime example—in the real world, getting into a strange van at the urging of a guy who regularly disco dances on cafeteria tables for fun and profit would be lunacy, but in this crazy nightmare of hellhounds and monsters and exploding old ladies, it not only made sense, it was the only logical thing to do.

Here Flint cut in again, with a sigh. "Come on, you guys—we're in the middle of a forest in Connecticut! It's not like you have a lot of other options!"

For a moment as I stood there, irresolute, I reflected on how unreal this whole experience felt—like it was so impossible it had no connection to my real life. It was sort of like a fire drill at school, but with more near-death experiences—without any warning I'd been caught up in this unreal whirlwind of activity, and it felt like at any moment I'd wake up and return to my regular life. The more I thought about it, the more my stomach lurched—what was happening to me? Had I really been attacked by monsters? Was I hallucinating, and if not, how on earth could harpies be real? At the same time, though, I got the totally contrary feeling of familiarity like I had before. Why did I suspect that if it weren't for that, I would be twenty times as freaked out?

In my moment of indecision, it was Biagio's totally insane prefrontal cortex (the center of rational decision-making in the brain, the slow development of which is the cause of much teen idiocy, for you non-science-geek types out there) that carried the day with typical impulsive flair. Grabbing my wrist, he dragged both of us into the van and sat down, leaving me little to do but fumble for a seatbelt.

Flint sighed with relief and turned to Mrs. O' Leary, who'd been waiting patiently for us all this time, panting loudly enough to sound like a small jet engine. "Good girl, Mrs. O' Leary! Go to camp now!" he shouted, then clambered into the van and slammed the door. My last view of the clearing was one of Mrs. O' Leary again dissolving into the shadows before the engine rumbled to life and we were off, jolting unevenly over the floor of the clearing.

The guy driving was thickset, tanned and blond—which didn't look terribly Northeastern to me—and had a bunch of what looked like old scars—about an inch long each—on his hands and neck. Perhaps he'd been the wrong half of a badly done knife-throwing act years ago, I mused. For the moment he was perfectly stationary, staring straight at the road ahead (after threading the needle between altogether too many century-old oak trees for my liking, we'd burst back onto the pavement and were now barreling along a deserted road at about eighty miles an hour) and giving no sign to acknowledge us. I winced as I realized what an odd group we were—two shell-shocked-looking teenagers, one clad in a rumpled golden tux, and Flint, who as usual looked like he'd come directly from an eighties thrift store. Considering all that, it didn't take me long to break the silence.

"All right, Flint, you promised to explain what's going on. Let's hear it!" I tried to sound brave, but my voice was hollow and it didn't sound very convincing. Flint leaned back in his seat, looking thoughtful.

"Well, Jason, it's kind of a long story and no matter how well I tell it you still won't believe me at first, but here goes. You know what that thing was that was chasing us earlier?" He shuddered.

I took a deep breath before answering. "You're gonna think I'm crazy"—

"Try me," said Flint in an odd voice. I wondered for the millionth time how much more to him there was than I was seeing.

"—but…it wasn't a harpy, was it?" I looked nervously at him, sure that he'd tell Argus to head for the nearest mental institution. But that was the furthest from his actual reaction to my statement that I'd been attacked by an Ancient Greek monster.

He nodded briskly. "Pretty close. Actually, it was a Fury, one of Hades' avengers. They're a lot like harpies, but a lot nastier, and a lot of half-bloods have had nasty run-ins with 'em."

Biagio broke in again, sounding incredulous. "You're not seriously suggesting that Harpies and Furies are real, are you?"

"I am," Flint responded calmly. "So are hellhounds like Mrs. O' Leary, Minotaurs, hydras, and pretty much any other Greek monster you can think of. Okay, I'll say it, here goes: The Greek gods of Mount Olympus are real, too. They're still around. And _you _two, well…" he trailed off, but what with the bombshell he'd just dropped, neither of us noticed.

Biagio chuckled. "All right, now _seriously…" _he caught sight of Flint's expression and stopped himself uncertainly. Flint was great at deadpanned expressions, but the look he was giving us seemed too grave to be fake.

On the other end of the van, I'd been hit by a bolt from the blue, like a lightning strike from Zeus himself. When Flint had said that the gods were real, I'd very nearly passed out on the spot. I know you might be thinking that I was a little gullible to believe him just like that, and I'll grant that I didn't buy it a hundred percent right away, but something in what he said had just resonated with me in a way I couldn't explain. I looked desperately around at the prosaic, gray interior of the van, looking for some sense of normalcy to prove that I wasn't totally insane, but then I noticed that the seatbelt buckles had Greek omegas (Ω) on them. I groaned, sweat pouring from my brow, and it was again a few moments before I could speak. And I'm no wimp, either, no matter what Brian might have told you.

"The Greek gods?" I finally choked out. "Zeus…Hermes…Athena…um, Poseidon…Hephaestus…those guys are REAL? Are you _serious?!_

"Right." Flint took a deep breath. "Plus Dionysus, Aphrodite, Hades, Apollo, Artemis, Ares, Hestia, Demeter, Persephone and a couple of minor gods like Janus and Morpheus. Never pays to leave anyone out, or they'll get seriously mad at you. They're real, Jason. And they're in America.

"The gods are in America?" said Biagio incredulously. "You've got to be kidding me."

"Not at all, mon ami," said Flint breezily. "See, well, how to put this…you remember that the Greek gods moved to Rome when it became the center of the world, right?"

"Yeah, and their names changed," I mused. "Jupiter for Zeus, Neptune for Poseidon, Venus for Aphrodite…"

"That's it. Now, as far as mortals are concerned that's the end of the story. But the gods were forgotten but not gone, if you'll excuse the turn of phrase. They kept moving with whatever country in Western Civilization was the strongest—Germany, France, Britain—and now they're in the U.S. Of course, they've changed with the times a bit—Mount Olympus above the Empire State Building, Hades in Los Angeles, Apollo's Maserati sun chariot, and all that—but it's still everything you've read about in the myths. Gods, monsters, and heroes. And that brings us to you two.

He leaned forward and gave us an appraising glance. "I'm guessing that now you're thinking, sure maybe the Greek gods are real, but what does that have to do with us? Why did the Fury come after us?

"H'm. I don't mean to be insensitive here, but…both of you only live with one parent, right? The other one supposedly died or divorced or something?"

I winced, wondering what on Earth that had to do with anything, but nodded. "How did you know…" spluttered Biagio, red in the face, looking like an angry, brunette Jonas brother. Flint plowed on, seemingly oblivious to our reaction.

"You two have ADHD? Dyslexia?" He gave us a knowing glance, like he'd seen it all before. I frowned, totally bemused.

"Well, yeah," mumbled Biagio, staring intently at the carpet beneath his Italian leather shoes. "What's that have to do with anything?" I wanted to add that I didn't have ADHD, at least not officially, but I kept my mouth shut.

Flint gave us a sympathetic glance. "I'm sorry to give you a shock here, but, well, you're demigods. Your other parents were gods or goddesses. They aren't dead, or divorced—they're on Mount Olympus right now."

My jaw dropped. It had been getting a lot of exercise that day. I'd been beginning to think that nothing Flint said could surprise me anymore, but I'd clearly been mistaken. "My mom…is a _goddess?!?" _I gasped.

Flint nodded. "And _you _are a half-god, half-human hero—just like Heracles and Theseus and Bellerophon. And that's why you're going to Camp Half-Blood right now."

I had to give Biagio credit for quickness on that one. Why my mind was still on _Bellerophon? _he spoke up again. "Camp Half-Blood? You never explained what that place is."

"Ah, yes," said Flint sagely. "You're cutting right to the heart of the matter there. All right, I'll explain, and I'll have to go into a bit of ancient history for this: the gods, as you know, aren't exactly known for marital fidelity—Zeus being the best example, I suppose—so they have a ton of kids, and those kids, being powerful demigods (that's the official term for sons or daughters of the gods), attract monsters a lot. Adversity builds character, sure, and that's probably why the Greek heroes became so famous, but that doesn't work if you get eaten. So thousands of years ago, a centaur named Chiron decided to tutor young demigods to help them become great heroes. He had a cave up on a hillside, and he'd raise them and teach them the arts, and how to fight, and so on. He taught all the great heroes. Heracles, Achilles, the original Jason—I'm guessing you're named after him, incidentally—Winston Churchill, Joshua Lawrence Chamberlain, George Washington—remember, the gods moved with history. A lot of modern celebrities and famous figures are really demigods. Just about anyone you can think of—a famous general is probably a son of Zeus or Ares, a lot of popular musicians are descendants of Apollo, the god of music, a good many Hollywood stars are kids of Dionysus or Aphrodite"—

"I think I know a football player who might be a son of Janus," I put in. "He's the god of beginnings and endings and doorways, as I recall, and no mere mortal could go through that many teams in such a short amount of time."

"Right," said Flint, looking pleased that I seemed to be catching on. "Well, now Chiron lives in Long Island, and that's where we're headed. His hero training was formalized a couple decades ago into Camp Half-Blood, and now that's where all heroes go to learn the tricks of the trade—a summer camp for children of the gods. They send out people like me to find kids who might be demigods, and bring them here. Your seeing the Fury was a sure sign—monsters are usually invisible to mortals because of the Mist. It makes monstrous or godly stuff look normal to them—if another student had wandered in while you were being chased, it probably would've looked to them like you were getting mauled by some old granny. The Iliad even mentions it a few times."

My head was spinning, and I reflected on the whole unbelievable adventure for the millionth time. I just couldn't get over it. I was a demigod—I probably had superhuman powers! I knew somewhere that I shouldn't believe that this could all be real, but another, much larger part of my mind—like I've mentioned earlier—somehow _knew _that Flint was right. I guess that was the Olympian blood in me. And the more I thought about it, the more I knew I hadn't imagined anything I'd seen. While I was wrestling with this, I came up with a more pertinent question: "People like you? What do you mean?"

Flint looked oddly uncomfortable, but developed a knowing smile, one I'd always come to dread during his pranks back at school. "Well, I suppose it's time I tell you the truth about who I am. Flint Greenbaum, satyr at your service." And with that, he kicked off his shoes, revealing furry, goat-like ankles ending in polished gray hooves, and at the same time pushed his fedora back to reveal curly horns protruding from his mullet.

Neither of us could do anything but gape at him in shock. As we were struggling to find words, the van (as I would later learn) passed through the borders of Camp Half-Blood. The air seemed to get fresher, my mind seemed to get clearer, and Argus, our driver, underwent a dramatic change. Each and every one of the scars on his body turned into a bright blue eye, staring straight at us. Suddenly, I remembered who he'd been in Greek mythology—the hundred-eyed watchman dude.

We didn't stop screaming for a solid sixty seconds.

**Well, there we are! I hoped you liked it, and that my explanation of the gods and so on was satisfactory. Now, on to the third chapter!**


	3. We are Orientated

**As before, I'm merely a respectful demigod trying to bring more tales of Camp Half-Blood to the general public. I don't own the Percy Jackson series, Camp Half-Blood, Delphi Strawberry Service (although I doubt Mr. D. wants it much), Star Wars, any of the works of Jimmy Buffett or the Bee Gees, or indeed anything but the---um---**_**obviously**_** fictitious plot and characters. And now, on with the chapter: **

Chapter 3: We are Orientated

So, to recap, Flint was a goat (or, at least, 2/3 goat), Argus had eyes all over his body, and the Greek gods were real. And I thought _last _Friday was crazy.

Still, since we'd entered the borders of Camp Half-Blood, an odd change had come over me. My mind had cleared immensely—I felt like I'd gotten ten hours of sleep—and somehow I felt more intelligent, don't ask me how, like my brain was working a bit more quickly. Along with that came an increasingly strong feeling that Flint was telling the truth—improbable as it seemed, I was becoming more and more convinced that the Greek myths were true, just as he'd told me.

We extricated ourselves from the van, which had parked at the base of a hill seemingly in the middle of nowhere, with some difficulty. Flint waved to Argus, who waved back, the eyes on his palm regarding us cheerfully, and threw the van into gear, after which it rambled out of sight over the hill. "Well, come on, then!" said Flint bracingly. "We're almost there!"

He led us over the top of the hill and paused as we straggled up to join him. Then, with a grandiose sweep of his arm, he said with the air of a master of ceremonies, "Well, here we are!"

My eyes followed his gesture, and my knees nearly buckled again as I caught sight of the amazing vista spread out before us in the valley. An invisible Greek chorus seemed to ring in my ears (and probably did, if I was to believe everything Flint had told me) as I drank in the sight.

It looked like a Greek island had somehow drifted over from the Mediterranean and attached itself to New York. Sun-drenched olive trees grew throughout the valley, smoke rose peacefully from pristine, white Parthenon-style buildings, and sparkling, clear blue rivers wound its way between it all, tumbling into waterfalls and rapids as they made their way toward Long Island Sound. I noticed a few other things that didn't seem quite so classical, as well – an official-looking house painted red and white that had to be three or four stories tall sat to our right near what appeared to be a volleyball court with a game in progress. A few yards downhill of our current position was a huge strawberry field, which explained the van we'd come in (why the Greek gods would want to run a strawberry farm in the middle of a training ground for heroes, exactly, I had no idea.) There even seemed to be a few minor mountains lining the valley, which seemed a bit out of place on the East Coast. One of the tallest hills had a single tree on it, a supercolossal deep green pine that appeared to have a dragon wrapped around its trunk. I rolled my eyes in disbelief.

A warm breeze whipped through my hair, bringing the delicious scent of sun-baked strawberries with it. The sound glittered, gentle waves endlessly rolling onto the beach. Flint looked at the valley and grinned, his cheerful, jesting tone fully recovered as he said grandly, "Allow me to officially welcome you to Camp Half-Blood!"

"…'Keeping young heroes safe (mostly) for over three millennia,'" Biagio read off of the brochure. He raised an eyebrow at that, but was clearly just as enchanted by the view as I was. "My goodness, this place is just paradise!" he added, sounding incongruously like a snowbird reaching Florida.

I felt the same way, I had to admit – Camp Half-Blood felt like another world, but seemed like home at the same time. The sense of déjà vu I'd had all day felt overwhelmingly strong here. I grinned as well – as crazy as the whole idea sounded, maybe I was a demigod after all.

Flint kicked off his sneakers, going into goat mode again (it was still just totally bizarre to see him with hooves) and rummaged in one of his many pockets, eventually coming up with a set of reed Pan-pipes. He blew a few notes that sounded oddly like the beginning of "Stayin' Alive," finishing with a wild flourish, then returned the pipes to his pocket and turned back to Biagio and me, who were still gazing rapturously down at the Camp. "That was to summon Grover Underwood, the number-one satyr around here," he explained. "He's gonna be stoked when he hears that two more campers have turned up, not even chewed on by the Nemean Lion or anything." I looked at him askance, as usual unsure whether he was joking or not, but he was staring off into the forest and didn't notice. "Ah, good. Here he comes now."

Sure enough, within a few seconds a taller satyr manifested himself a few feet away from us, I couldn't tell exactly, and walked over to Flint to shake his hand. "Hey, Flint! You found some more?"

He turned and regarded us appraisingly. Grover seemed to be a year or two older than Flint. He was taller and thinner, and had a perpetually nervous look in his eyes, the same look Flint had gotten when we were attacked by the Fury. He looked more like I pictured satyrs than Flint did – his curly horns, shaggy legs and hooves made him look vaguely wild, and he had a short beard and sideburns. He was wearing what looked like an official Camp T-shirt – it was fluorescent orange with CAMP HALF-BLOOD and a Pegasus logo in black – and Bermuda shorts, which didn't go well with the goat feet. He gave us another once-over, raising an eyebrow at Biagio's getup, and nodded. "Well, welcome to camp, you two. Your journey was okay? Not too many ravenous monsters?"

We looked at each other, honestly not sure how to answer that one, but he pressed on. "My meeting just got out, so I'd be happy to give you guys the grand tour. Flint, you're going to report the new arrivals to Mr. D? I saw a few more coming in about twenty minutes ago."

Flint sighed. "Whatever you say, G-man. I don't know why we bother, though—it'll just give him more time to think of new ways to get their names wrong." He rolled his eyes, gave us a parting wave and ran off into the valley, heading towards the farmhouse. We set off as well, following Grover down into the valley at a brisk pace. "So this Mr. D is, like, the head of camp or something?" I asked him. I had so many questions it was hard to know exactly where to start, but that seemed as good a place as any.

He nodded. "The director, yeah. Chiron—that's our activities director—does a lot more of the work, though—running the camp and training the heroes and so on. Mr. D isn't really your ambitious type, and he hates his job. Zeus sent him here as a punishment, and he's not happy about that, so he mainly stays in the Big House"—he pointed to the red-and-white farmhouse into which Flint had just disappeared—"drinking Diet Coke and griping. Do _not _tell him I said that, though," he added hastily with a noticeable wince, from which I inferred that however passive he might be, this Mr. D was still someone to watch out for. "You're going to be meeting him at the orientation meeting this evening with the other half-bloods who turned up today. Be respectful."

"What does the D stand for?" Biagio inquired, which was precisely what I'd made a point to avoid asking.

Grover inhaled nervously. "I'd better let him tell you that."

Meanwhile, my brain was still buzzing with questions. _Zeus _had sent Mr. D to camp? Zeus, as in the immortal king of the gods, the guy with the lightning bolts? I still had a hard time wrapping my mind around the idea that the Greek gods were real. A voice in the back of my head kept insisting, _yeah, but it can't __**really **__be true, can it?_ On the other hand, though, I certainly couldn't think of any other explanation for what I'd seen that day. My gut lurched as I realized that if Flint was serious about Biagio and I being demigods that must mean that my mom— who I could never remember seeing— had been a goddess. There was nothing more unbelievable that anyone else could have told me.

By this point, we had reached the beginnings of a gravel trail that seemed to connect all the major buildings in the valley. Our feet crunching rhythmically along the path, we walked past the Big House, which was even more impressive up close—one of the biggest, sturdiest houses I'd ever seen.

"The Big House is the center of all operations here at Camp Half-Blood," Grover explained. "The staff lives there, of course, and it's where we hold all of our quest meetings, war councils, and pinochle games."

"Pinochle?!?" Biagio spluttered, doing an impressive double take. I began to wonder if either of us would say anything that wasn't an interrogative sentence for the next few days.

"It's a favorite of Mr. D and Chiron," Grover said, with an oddly serious air. "You can both expect to get roped into a game sooner or later."

Luckily, I reflected, I actually knew how to play. My grandmother had taught me three or four years ago during a lethargic summer afternoon, and we'd whiled away several enjoyable hours on her back porch in Virginia, drinking tall, icy glasses of lemonade and obsessively keeping track of the score. Camp Half-Blood was the last place I would have expected the card game to turn up in my life again, but I was quickly learning not to take anything for granted. I relaxed, enjoying the feel of the late afternoon sun on my face, and reminded myself that camp counselors with a fondness for pinochle were hardly the weirdest things I'd run into all day.

We continued along the gravel trail, beginning to move up a gentle incline. As we turned a corner, we ran into a huge, heavyset, scruffy-looking kid about six and a half feet tall—he looked like a member of our undefeated varsity football team back home—sweeping the path industriously with a tree branch. Grover's breath sped up abruptly and he started looking nervous again—that is, more nervous than usual. "Oh hey, Tyson. How's it going?"

"Hello, goat boy," said Tyson amiably, in a voice that sounded like it had been hooked up to a subwoofer. He turned to us with interest. "You two are new?" We both nodded.

"Yes!" he said enthusiastically, making us both jump at the unexpected noise. "Welcome to Camp Half-Blood. You will have fun!"

He moved on, humming a tune that sounded like a moderate avalanche in progress. Grover shuddered, but gave him a half wave.

"That's Tyson the Cyclops, a son of Poseidon," he explained. "He turned up a few years ago—he's Percy's half-brother—and he helps out around camp, making weapons and so on. He's proven himself as a hero, too, no doubt about that. Satyrs and Cyclopes just don't…get along so well…"

"_CYCLOPS?" _said Biagio and I in shocked unison, one of our rare moments of agreement. Suddenly I realized that Tyson had, indeed, only had one eye, which somehow hadn't registered with me until then.

Grover looked surprised at our reaction. "Well, yeah. Is that really so hard to believe after seeing Argus?"

Neither of us responded, realizing that he had a point. We kept walking in silence for a few moments. I couldn't help wondering what my life at camp would be like with heroes, satyrs, and monsters for cabin mates. It was never easy adjusting to a new environment, I reflected, but this time had to take the cake.

We stumbled over the top of the rise and found ourselves looking down at a group of smaller buildings painted in a wild variety of colors, arranged in a rough rectangle around a central commons. About half of these buildings were a bit smaller than the others, and seemed to be in the process of being constructed. I wasn't sure why some of them were still being built, but I guessed that I was looking at the cabins.

"Well, welcome to our own little pantheon, right here on Long Island! There's one cabin for the kids of each Olympian god," said Grover, proving my suspicions correct. "Plus one for Hades, and those ones under construction down at the other end are going to be for the minor gods. See how many of them you can guess."

We walked into the commons area between the cabins, and I got to take a closer look at the strange collection of buildings. The two nearest to us were also the largest, two huge marble buildings with golden doors. The first, with a one over the door, had lightning bolts engraved around the windows. "Zeus, right?" I guessed.

"Right, cabin one. It's empty right now, but a daughter of Zeus named Thalia stays there occasionally. The one next to it is Hera, cabin two. 'Course the goddess of marriage can't go having affairs with mortals like all the rest, but she's never liked heroes to begin with—too many sons of Zeus for her taste—so we're careful to keep her cabin nice anyway."

The rest of the cabins formed two lines moving away from One and Two. The first on the left was blue-gray, and upon closer inspection proved to be covered in seashells. "Poseidon?" I surmised.

Flint nodded, and I moved on. The next cabin had a thatched roof and an impressive flowerbed out front, so I guessed that was Demeter. The one after that was made of red brick and its many chimneys were smoking, like a factory, and I could hear the sounds of ringing metal and good-natured joking coming from within. Hephaestus. Next to that was a low building of an ugly red, with a boar's head over the door and Green Day blasting out of the windows. Ouch, definitely Ares. The one after that was a beautifully-styled marble building with a fancy glass sculpture out front, a motto in Latin over the door, and a carving of an owl above that. It was obviously Athena's, and it looked awesome. I bet they had a great library in there, what with Athena being the goddess of wisdom and all. Then an odd thought occurred to me.

"Wait a minute—wasn't Athena one of those sworn virgins? _Parthenos _and all that?"

"Technically, you're right, but there're still a lot of Athena kids here," said Grover. "You remember she had that crush on Odysseus or whatever way back when, and how she was born from Zeus' head?"

"Ouch," I said automatically, as I did whenever I thought of that particular episode.

"Well, I don't know exactly how it works, but apparently her children are born from thoughts more or less the same way, with the other parent being mortals she admires intellectually. Annabeth Chase is the head counselor for Athena, and she's the most experienced camper here. I suppose…ah, it's nothing. Never mind."

I wondered what he'd been about to say, but I moved on, and was about to look at the next cabin when I heard a strangled yell coming from Biagio. I glanced worriedly over at him to see him shielding his face with a tuxedo-sleeved arm, and when I saw cabin seven I understood why. It was made of pure gold, and the sun glinted off of it something fierce. I quickly glanced away to avoid being blinded.

"Apollo?" said Biagio ruefully. Flint nodded. The next cabin didn't appear to have any distinguishing features, so I stood near it in confusion for a few moments, running down the list of gods I hadn't named yet.

"That's Artemis," said Grover, coming to my rescue. "It doesn't look like much now, but it glows all silvery in the moonlight. Of course, she doesn't have any kids."

The next cabin was a boxy building with large shutters, painted an…interesting shade of pink. A strong scent of perfume wafted from the windows.

"Aphrodite cabin?" I asked. Grover nodded.

Biagio sniffed the air appraisingly. "Alluring _Elements _2002, morning rose, nicely aged," he said thoughtfully. "That line gets a great warmth and richness after a few years if it matures right, and it seems like they've let it breathe just the right amount…it's developed this sharp, clear tang to counterbalance the sweeter floral tones."

Grover looked at him askance, but for my part his speech only confirmed the popular school rumor that he owned more than 200 kinds of cologne.

"Um……yeah," said Grover after a few moments of silence. "Shall we move on, then?" I don't want to be petty or anything, but I have to say it was nice to see someone else at a loss for words for once. I had the feeling that demigod or no, Biagio was going to throw a few surprises into the Camp Half-Blood mix.

Cabin Eleven was a rough-hewn wooden building that looked like it had been through a lot over the years. The boards were bleached, buckled, and generally looked about ready to collapse. However, some scaffolding had gone up in one corner, so it seemed that the beleaguered cabin was about to undergo a facelift. Looking more closely, I spotted one of those medical-symbol things—the staff with the snakes wrapped around it—emblazoned above the doorway. "So that's, what, the infirmary or something?" I guessed.

Grover shook his head. "Nope, Hermes cabin. The caduceus is his symbol originally, and it's been adapted for medical stuff because he's the god of doctors. The cabin's so beat up because if we aren't sure who a demigod's godly parent is, they stay there—god of travelers, you know. You two will be sleeping there tonight if you aren't claimed by then. I actually have a pretty fair idea who both of your godly parents are, but we'll wait for them to make it official."

"So who…" said Biagio and I excitedly and in unison, as well I believe you would if you'd just learned your mother was a goddess but didn't yet know which one. And if you're reading this, the odds are good that you could be in that situation someday. Whatever the case, Grover waved a hand airily to cut us off.

"Now, now, I don't want to be the one to spoil the surprise! C'mon, let's see the rest of the cabins."

The final Olympian cabin—Dionysus—looked like a villa straight out of Tuscany, with a sun-baked terracotta roof and vines curling around the windows. The heady smell of aging merlot emanated from the building with a vengeance, and what sounded like an old disco hit floated out with it. Biagio nodded approvingly.

It couldn't have been more different from Cabin Thirteen, an imposing building of grimy black stone with a huge skull-and-spears design over the door. Just standing near it made the air feel ten degrees colder, despite (or was it because of?) the torches burning with a greenish flame set on either side of the doorway. All in all, it looked like a place that would make even our school's respectable crop of Goth kids a little nervous.

"Let me guess. Hades cabin," said Biagio after a moment's silence, his breath making a frosty cloud in the air. In _April._

_That's just ridiculous, _I thought, then nearly suffered a heart attack as someone moved within the open doorway of the cabin. A short, dark-haired kid who looked a few years younger than I was sauntered nonchalantly out into the open and waved to us.

"Oh, hi Nico," said Grover, who I'd noticed had jumped a bit as well. "Guys, this is Nico di Angelo, the son of Hades. Nico—this is Jason and, um,"…

"Biagio," he supplied, looking a little insulted (though hardly anyone ever got his name right on the first try).

"And Biagio, two new guys Flint found this morning. I'm showing 'em around the cabins."

Nico nodded and waved at us with a friendly smile. I'd expected him to be one of those surly, death-obsessed kids because of the Hades connection, but he seemed like a good guy. "Welcome to Camp Half-Blood, you guys! I know you must be pretty confused about everything right now, but don't worry, if I can fit in here"—his face took on an ironic cast that hinted at a more complex interior character than he'd evidenced at first—"believe me, so can you two. Um, nice suit" (this directed at Biagio, of course, who nodded in a manner that seemed nonchalant but betrayed his hidden flattered-ness). "Grover, you shown them the arena and Arts and Crafts and all that?"

Grover glanced at the sky—an incredible sunset was in progression, reflecting off of the distant sound and making the camp look even more beautiful, if that was possible--like he was looking at a watch and nodded thoughtfully. "I was about to, but it's getting close to six now. Their orientation meeting should be—_ah._"

He was cut off by the blowing of a horn in the distance—it sounded like a conch shell or ram's horn; it had that oddly echoey quality—followed instantly by a voice that must have been magically magnified, an impatient, slightly slurred baritone that boomed out over the valley:

"Well, hurry up then! I don't have all day! Inconsiderate heroes. We're generous enough to bring you here, rescue you from monsters, and all that, and all you do is sit around and ignore us!"

The voice cut off with a snort, echoes still rebounding into the forest. I turned quizzically to Grover, who was looking nervous again. He gulped, then set off the way we'd come, beckoning for us to follow.

"It's time for you to meet the director."

**Well, that concludes my latest chapter, and Jason and Biagio have arrived at Camp Half-Blood! I hope I portrayed camp to your satisfaction, as in my opinion it's one of the greatest parts of the Riordan originals. Let me know how I did!**

**An apology is in order to my Pok****ѐ****topia**** readers. I didn't realize I was going to split this into two chapters, so I just kept working on it rather than getting back to Gathering of the Heroes. I'm getting right on it, don't worry!**

**Well, feel free to review as always, and welcome back to my story! More is forthcoming, including the introduction of several important characters, including of course Mr. D, and both Jason and Biagio getting claimed, all in the next chapter! The tension mounts…**

**Till we meet again!**

--Μαησηνας


	4. Biagio Takes the Plunge

Chapter Four: Biagio Takes the Plunge

**Disclaimer: I do not own Percy Jackson and the Olympians, nor anything else but the plot and characters. Any pop culture references are incidental and put in to preserve the spirit of the original series. I'm alive! Everyone miss me?**

--Μαησηνας

Darkness was beginning to steal over the valley as Biagio, Grover, and I headed back towards the Big House. Crickets—at least I assumed they were crickets—were chirping in the distance, back behind us the Hades cabin's torches glowed eerily in the dusk, and I could hear the sound of waves washing against the shore in the distance.

"All right," said Biagio after a while. "So…the director." I could tell he was trying to sound brave and nonchalant, which under different circumstances would've been weird on a senior.

Grover nodded. "Right, Mr. D. Don't worry about him too much, though—just show him the proper respect and you should be fine. Before you meet him and Chiron, though, we'll introduce you to the other half-bloods who turned up lately. You know—get to know each other a bit." He chuckled. "They're probably all as nervous as you are."

We'd only heard about half of what he'd just said, though, because at that moment an unearthly, rumbling howl had sounded from the woods, totally freaking both of us out again. Grover noticed our concern while I was still trying to form the sentence "What the heck was that?!?" and answered for us:

"Oh, yeah—we keep the occasional monster in the forest for training purposes. Don't sweat it, though—they won't come after you here or anything. Just make sure to bring a sword if you're going in there later."

I decided not to go on any nature hikes in the near future and quickly changed the subject. "Oh, um, sorry. Sure. You were saying…?"

"Right, the rest of the new kids." He started counting locations off on his fingers. "There's a few from the Midwest who just got here today, five or six who came all the way from the West Coast—dangerous place, you know, they ran into a _lot _of monsters on their way—and, hm, a couple of others. And, of course, can't forget you two! Let's hear it for _Philly_!"

Biagio, who was closer, slapped him a high five. I rolled my eyes, but grinned. Those satyrs—always satirical, it seemed. By this point we were in front of the Big House. Grover turned to leave, but stopped to give us some parting advice.

"All right, good luck, and welcome to Camp. I'll be seeing you. Oh, and there's one more thing…"

"Yeah?" we both asked. "…Columbo," I added under my breath, never one to miss an old pop culture reference.

"The odds are pretty good that your godly parents will send a sign to claim you tonight or tomorrow, now that they know you've arrived safely at camp. Be ready for that." And with that, he was gone.

I drew a deep breath and kicked absently at a piece of gravel. "O….._kaaaaaay,_" said Biagio after a long silence.

"Um, _yeah_," I agreed, stepping onto the porch nonetheless. "Shall we?"

Biagio made a quick adjustment to his bow tie and flicked a possibly unreal speck of dust from his lapel. "After you."

Steeling myself, I walked up to the heavy wooden doors and pushed them open with a creak.

***

We found Flint waiting for the two of us just inside the doorway, reclining in a comfortable-looking wicker chair and working his way steadily through a bag of Doritos, his hooves propped on a coffee table nearby. He waved at us and mumbled something indistinct, then swallowed and brushed the cheese dust out of his beard.

"Um, sorry. Hey, Jason, Biagio. You guys got the grand tour from Grover? What did you think of Camp?"

We both nodded. "It's amazing!" was my first reaction. "Well, it's all kind of crazy, but…amazing nonetheless," I added with something of a nervous laugh (I'd been doing a lot of that lately, I noticed, but luckily I was particularly good at them).

Flint grinned. "Amazing but crazy—yeah, that's the camp I know all right. All the rest of the new kids are in the den over there"—he pointed out a door to our left—"and Chiron will take you guys from there. All right, see you around, good luck!"

The last part of this sentence was hard to understand due to the fact that as Flint was speaking, he'd wadded up the empty Doritos bag, shoved it into his mouth, and swallowed. I did a major double take at that, naturally, but assumed that it was a satyr thing and, with no further comment, followed Biagio across the room to the next door, behind which the other new demigods awaited us.

***

Entering the den, we found ourselves facing sixteen or so fairly average-looking teenagers roughly between mine and Biagio's age, all of whom, not surprisingly, looked a little nervous, like they'd been chased across America by monsters that morning (which they probably all had). It looked more or less like a little slice of my own high school—good looking popular kids (apparently neither rampaging hydras nor learning of godly parentage had been able to part them from their iPhones for too long), athletic types (Nike? Ares?) practicing their finest surly expressions, freaks and geeks, and a whole lot of plain old ordinary-looking adolescents. The California contingent was by far the easiest to recognize, since they all looked like Biagio.

Ah, _excellent,_" said that individual enthusiastically, cracking his knuckles and heading over towards the prettiest girls in the room like an iron filing to a magnet, 150-watt smile already in place. Typical. Rolling my eyes, I headed over towards the group of half-bloods as well, scanning the room for someone not already caught up in a conversation.

The first such person I noticed was a tall girl around my age standing in the corner of the room. She had long, shiny reddish-brown hair and deep green eyes, and was wearing a forest green sweatshirt and dark blue bell-bottom jeans with a bunch of homemade-looking, multicolored hearts and peace signs painted onto them. She was standing off to one side looking a bit thoughtful, holding onto a battered purple notebook in one hand. She really was kind of pretty, I decided—not what Biagio would've called pretty, but, well, that was Biagio. My nervousness took on something of a different cast as I walked up to her.

"So, um…hi." _Oh, __real __smooth start, Jason. _"You just got here, then?"

She gave me an equally nervous half-smile. "Yeah…do you think they're serious about all this? The Greek gods, and everything? Or am I just going crazy here?"

I wasn't sure how to answer that one, really, although I doubted she was any crazier than I was (not that that was a huge consolation at the moment). "I don't know," I finally responded. "It sure does sound crazy, but I get this weird feeling like they're telling the truth. You know—gut instinct or whatever. And for another thing, one of my friends turned out to be a satyr…I mean, I sure can't think of any other explanation for _that. _Oh, I'm Jason Williams."

"Ashley Summers." She shook my hand. "I can't explain it either—I mean, one minute I'm at Starbucks and the next, the barista turns into some kind of snake thing"—she shuddered and I gave her a sympathetic nod, remembering my Fury encounter—"and then my friend Heather tells me that she's a dryad and drags me halfway across the country here. Something not normal's definitely up with that, right?"

I had to agree. "Well anyway, we have some sort of orientation meeting after this. So I guess we'll find out."

Trying to find some more normal ground, we chatted a bit more – Ashley, I learned, was from Columbus, Ohio, she'd recently turned fifteen, and she was a good artist and flute player (as two fellow music geeks, we had some fun comparing notes on the bands to which we belonged – oh, notes pun, ouch. I SWEAR that was not intentional), she'd run into a lot of weird monsters on her journey, in which Heather the dryad had led her through a lot of forests and backwoods. At one point, I asked her about the notebook she was carrying.

She looked a bit surprised at the question. "Oh, this? That's just my poetry notebook. I'm not all that good, but I love writing anyway, and I always keep it with me. I guess that's a little weird, but…"

"No, not at all," I hastened to reassured her. "I write some fiction and stuff, but I haven't had all that much time for it lately. And right now, as they say, the truth is stranger."

A thought occurred to me. "Hey, you think my readers online would believe me if I told them I haven't updated for a month because I'm the son of a Greek god and I was off fighting Minotaurs when I should've been writing?"

Ashley laughed outright at that, which gave me the most genuine smile I'd had all day. Her cheerfulness was downright infectious. Following this exchange, though, her face took on a more serious cast.

"Um, if you don't mind my asking, Jason…"

"Fire away."

"Do you have any idea who… who your godly parent might be?"

"I don't know, seriously." (All right, it may have been rather obvious in retrospect, but at the time it seemed like disproving the Pythagorean Theorem would've been easier!) "It's really just kind of a crazy concept… I can't get my mind around it. Flint was maddening about that, though—he keeps hinting that he knows who my mom is, but he won't tell me anything!"

She nodded fervently. "Yeah… I live with my mom, so I guess my dad must be a god, but beyond that I have no idea."

It seemed like Ashley was going to say something more, but she caught sight of something elsewhere in the room and, suddenly, seemed to be trying to hold back laughter. "Um… who's the guy in the suit?"

I rolled my eyes. "Oh, that's Biagio d'Amore. Friend of mine, and yeah, that's his real name. He's like that all the time." I indicated Biagio, who I wasn't surprised to see was half-kneeling and kissing the hand of a confused-looking girl from the California group.

"I wonder if he might not be the son of Aphrodite? Goddess of love, you know, and, well…" And with that, Ashley collapsed into uncontrollable giggling.

"I'd be the last one to rule it out," I said wryly. "'Course I don't know… does Aphrodite even have sons or are all her kids girls? Oh wait, hand on, wasn't Aeneas…"

I was cut short from those musings by an odd sound something like a small explosion and a glare of harsh red light that sprang up seemingly out of nowhere. We all jumped, and someone – oh fine, it was me – screamed a bit. We all gazed, dumbfounded at one of the jock types in the center of the room – well, not at him, but _above_ him.

Revolving in the air an inch or two above the jock's head was this huge, glittering medallion of light – like a hologram or something – depicting a vicious-looking boar's head framed by spears. As we watched, the symbol began to fade and then disappeared entirely.

"That's Ares – he never had any sense of good timing," said a sage-sounding voice from the doorway.

Most of the other demigods, still on edge, jumped again, Biagio of course being one of them. Just within the doorway was a middle-aged man in the wheelchair with a curly brown beard and an amused expression, whom none of us had noticed arriving. Squinting, I made out MY OTHER RIDE IS A CENTAUR embroidered on his sweater. Was this Chiron, the centaur Flint had mentioned? He looked ordinary enough to me, but then again – an unnerving thought struck me suddenly – the Fury had been disguised as an old grandmother before attacking us. Was this the case now, too?

"Well, hail to the Son of the War God and all that," the mysterious fellow said, wheeling his way into the midst of us. Bizarrely enough, for a brief second I thought I hear thunder indoors, but I forgot about that as the newcomer began to speak once more.

"My name is Chiron Kentauros," he explained, "and I am the activities director here at Camp Half-Blood. As some of you might have heard, yes, I am indeed a centaur, although I prefer to remain in human form when meeting my new charges for the first time.

"Now!" – His voice increased in volume – "Hopefully you have already been told what I can assure you is the truth: you are, in fact, sons and daughters of the immortal gods of Mount Olympus." Ashley inhaled sharply next to me, as if she was just truly realizing this for the first time. "Here at Camp Half-Blood," Chiron went on, "young demigods train and learn together, in safety. Eventually, some of you may go on heroic quests to the outside world, battling the many monsters that lurk nearly everywhere you could think of on an errand for the gods, just as the Greek heroes have done before you.

"Sooner or later, all of you will be claimed by your immortal parent, as with"--he muttered a question to the jock who'd been claimed by Ares – "er, with Brian here. This may not occur for a few days, but don't assume that your parents have forgotten you. I can personally assure you that you will all find a place at camp of your own in the weeks to come.

"And now, if you'll follow me to the rec room, the director is waiting for us." Chiron turned on the spot and began to wheel out the door, then paused, shook his head and stood up with a groan… and then kept standing up somehow, after he should've been on his feet already – until there he was, an honest-to-Zeus horseman, standing in the middle of the den. He cantered out of the room, and after a few seconds of standing around staring at each other, we followed suit.

Biagio fell into step next to me and gave me the rueful grin I swear he practices in front of his mirror at home. "Centaurs… crazy," he said, shaking his head. A sly expression suddenly laced through his features. "On to a more important matter though: who is that charming young lady who was with you right now?"

"What?! Oh. Um, Ashley Summers… I just met her. Seems really nice, though. You, uh…" He'd flustered me, although I'd tried my utmost not to let him, and I could already feel my face going all red. "It's not like..."

He winked at me. "Say no more! I've met a few rather attractive girls already myself. They're veritable goddesses, really…oh, wait…"

I good-naturedly punched him in the shoulder. "Only you, Biagio. Hey—did you see that kid getting claimed by Ares?"

"Yeah—I guess that's us sometime in the future." We'd all caught up to Chiron by this point, and he threw open the doors to the rec room with something of a dramatic flair and waved a hand, bidding us to enter. The effect was amplified by a cloud of purplish smoke that curled out of the room, like something out of a movie. Nervously, we all shuffled in.

As the smoke cleared, we gradually began to see a silhouette seated at the head of what looked like a pool table directly in front of us. A few moments later the mysterious figure of the director snapped its fingers impatiently and the smoke vanished, and we beheld Mr. D staring at us blearily and humming "Margaritaville" off-key.

I'll admit that he wasn't precisely what I'd been expecting. Mr. D was probably about a head shorter than I was, although since he was sitting down it was hard to tell, was slightly overweight, and whatever of his face wasn't covered by a dark, curly beard seemed kind of sunburned. He was dressed in a tiger-print shirt and running shorts, with a golden laurel wreath perched crookedly on his head, and the smell of stale alcohol off of him was incredible. This was our mysterious leader? I would have laughed out loud, but I remembered how nervous Grover had been just at the thought of him. Besides, if I hadn't learned by now that appearances could be deceiving…

"So, you lot are the new demigods?" said Mr. D, suppressing a yawn. "Well, welcome to camp and all that. And I may as well tell you this right away, to avoid all kinds of grief later: I am Dionysus, god of wine, Olympian council no. 12 and the immortal, all-powerful trainer of young brats---I mean _demigods_ here at Camp Half-Blood. So I'll be expecting the proper attitude." He gave us a baleful glare and then waved his hand, causing a can of Diet Coke to manifest itself in front of him. I couldn't help wondering why the god of wine would want to drink soda, but that was just in the back of my mind compared to the fact that the director had just claimed to be a deity. It made sense when you considered how scared Grover had been, but _still…_

"You're crazy. I don't believe any of this," a harsh voice snarled. Looking around to see who'd spoken, I was shoved out of the way as Brian, son of Ares, elbowed his way to the front. "The monsters, the camp, that centaur…it's all some kind of big hoax. And _you _are not a god."

Just as I was thinking that this was really pretty insolent and sure not to end well if he was wrong, Mr. D, apparently agreeing with me, took matters into his own hands.

It all seemed to happen way too fast. Quicker than thought, Mr. D threw out a hand, and his Diet Coke can exploded. And I don't mean "exploded" in the way soda cans usually do; there was a blast like a land mine going off, and a huge burst of flame, and all of us yelled and/or threw ourselves to the ground. When the smoke cleared, all that remained of the beverage was a small pile of ashes sizzling on the table.

Mr. D turned to Brian, who quite naturally had gone completely white in the face. "I'm not a god? Hmmm, _really. _How _fascinating._ Well, carrying on…"

He picked up a typed sheet of paper from the pool table, turned it upside down, and, with an official-sounding cough, began to read in a bored tone:

"Welcome, young demigods, to Camp-Half-Blood, where you will train with the best, build lifelong memories and learn to be true heroes…blah blah blah…." He scanned the page, apparently looking for something more worthwhile. Ashley turned and mouthed _Are you kidding me? _In my direction.

"I heard that," said Dionysus absently. "Ah, yes… 'campers as yet unclaimed by their immortal parent are to stay in the Hermes cabin until that parent sends a sign to claim them. Those that are claimed are to report to the appropriate cabin, where the counselor will provide further explanation.' Let's see, do I have any kids here? Ah yes, you in the back." He snapped his fingers, and a bunch of purple grapes blazed into the air above one of the California girls. The usual surprised reaction was cut short, as Mr. D kept talking over the surprised whispers.

"'Please see Chiron for archery, sword fighting and most other activity schedules'—if you think that old horse-man can teach you anything—'next Capture the Flag, not that I care, is one week from tonight. May the Gods go with you, and welcome to Camp.'

"Now, get out, go on," Mr. D concluded with an irritable wave of the hand. "Do you think an immortal has nothing better to do than sit around lecturing adolescents all day? Go!"

He waved his hand again, and a dusty-looking bottle of wine appeared on the table where his Coke can had been before. An explosion of thunder followed immediately.

"Can't I get away with anything?" He changed the bottle into another Diet Coke and opened it wearily as he watched us file out.

***

"Don't mind Mr. D," said Chiron as soon as all of us had left the rec room. "Zeus sent him here as a punishment for chasing an off-limits wood nymph, and he's never been happy about it. However, he has your best interests at heart…somewhere.

"Now, head off to your cabins. Dinner is already over, but we're having some food sent in for all of you. Archery lessons start at ten tomorrow, for those interested." He walked off, leaving all of us with our heads spinning. Was Mr. D seriously a god? I couldn't help asking myself. He didn't seem all that impressive, to be honest, but he had sure thrown a lot of immortal powers around.

Well, it had certainly been an eventful day, I thought, suddenly realizing how tired I was. I guessed it was time to head over to the Hermes cabin for the night.

Night had fallen, but the moonlight combined with the torches set at helpful intervals made everything pretty visible. As I left the Big House, the first thing I heard was a shout of surprise, followed immediately by a loud splash. Wondering what was going on this time, I followed the sound of derisive laughter over to the canoe lake.

"It's that friend of yours in the suit," said Ashley as I arrived. "He got claimed all of a sudden and it startled him so much he fell into the lake." Sure enough, a thoroughly doused Biagio was climbing up the bank in front of us.

"Well…?" I began. Before I could get any further, he answered for me.

"Aphrodite. Goddess of love." His expression was hard to read, which for him was highly unusual.

I thought about this for a while. "So that means…"

"_Yes!!"_ he shouted, sounding completely unhinged. "I…I'm related to all of the hottest girls at this camp and I can't date _any _of them!!" He ran off with an inarticulate cry of frustration.

"That wasn't what I'd been planning to say…" I finished lamely. "Looks like you were right, Ashley."

She grinned. "I doubt a flirt like him will stay down for too long."

I laughed, knowing that this was true. "Well, I'll see you around. I'd better go make sure that psycho gets to the cabins all right." I strode off, but all of a sudden stopped in my tracks.

It was a really weird experience—I didn't feel like I was paralyzed or couldn't move physically, but all of a sudden I just stopped walking, and I couldn't make myself decide to start again. Before I could start to panic, though, a new sensation washed over me.

Again, this was hard to describe, but all of a sudden I felt _smarter. _My brain felt really clear and lucid, my exhaustion disappeared, and a sense of infinite possibility swept through my mind. I had the feeling that at the moment, I could do any kind of advanced math, paint a beautiful mural, discourse on Shakespeare, name every Roman emperor…there was just so much knowledge out there, but it was all within my grasp.

Those of you who have guessed by now that I was being claimed by my godly parent are absolutely right. A burst of green light made me look up, to see the third Olympian symbol of the evening—a silvery owl framed by olive branches, carrying a spear in one claw. And one word sprang into my head, seemingly out of nowhere: ATHENA.

Athena? My mom was _the goddess of wisdom? _My knees felt weak. I…just couldn't believe it.

_On the other hand, it does make a lot of sense, _said my more rational side. _I can see how she would have been attracted to your dad—he is a computer genius and everything, and let's face it, you are a geek. Besides, Athena has always been your favorite Olympian._

_ But…that's…insane._

_ Says the guy who was attacked by a Fury this morning._

_ Listen, I'm way too confused to even think about this right now. _

This viewpoint eventually prevailed, and I stumbled off towards the cabins. Before I knew it, I was standing at the door of Cabin Six, staring at the Latin motto over the door.

_Domus Minervae--Doctrina Perpetua—Erimus Miser Si Non Est Cena Magna Hodie_

"Athena Cabin—always learning—we will be unhappy if there isn't a large dinner today." _Whoa, how did I know that?!?I've never taken Latin..._ _I guess it's an Athena thing, _I thought bemusedly, then gave the door a confident knock.

And I opened it. From the inside. I found myself facing a mirror image of…Jason Williams.

"Oh, you're one of the new kids? Son of Athena? Great, come on in!" I'd never expected to hear myself speaking in a Boston accent. Talk about your family resemblances…

I walked into the cabin a little nervously, and was immediately greeted by a dozen or so teenagers, all of whom had my exact blond hair and gray eyes. Suddenly I realized how Grover had guessed who my immortal parent was—the entire cadre of Athena kids could've all been identical twins!

The oldest-looking of them—who looked like a taller, suntanned, female version of myself—stepped forward to shake my hand. "Hi! I'm Annabeth Chase, senior counselor for the Athena cabin. You just got here?"

I nodded. "Jason Williams. So your mom is Athena, too?"

"Right…I guess that means I'm your half-sister. Well, make yourself at home! We got the Hermes cabin to order pizza if you want it."

I thanked her and stepped into the middle of the cabin. Looking around, I couldn't suppress a "Wow…"

The Athena cabin was spacious, but it was crammed full of all sorts of academia. Bunk beds lined the walls, and all sorts of model gliders and old-fashioned airplanes and spacecraft and pterosaurs hung from the ceiling. Tables scattered around were covered in books, blueprints, cold mugs of coffee, and whatever, and a back room opened onto a huge, well-stocked library and fireplace. I also noticed a lot of weapons—spears and bows-and-arrows sets, all seemingly made out of bronze. "This place is incredible!" I couldn't help saying.

Annabeth laughed. "Thanks. The top bunk bed over there is yours. So, tell us how you got here!"

I collapsed into a chair and began the whole story that had started that morning. Ordinarily I might not have been up to it, but the Athena guys were really easy to get along with. They were all so enthusiastic, it gave you just as much energy being around them.

After everyone had gotten over chuckling at Biagio's various oddities, Annabeth introduced me to my other cabin mates. I was shaking hands with Malcolm, her second-in-command, when a loud crash echoed from the library.

I jumped a fair amount, having finally thought that the day's surprises were over, and whirled around to see a grimy-looking guy carrying a pizza box climb out of the fireplace. "Pizza's here," he said with a cough—rather unnecessarily, I thought, as he'd already captured the attention of everyone in the room.

Annabeth looked slightly exasperated, but amused as well. "Travis, you couldn't have just, I don't know, used the door?"

"Please. Where's the challenge in that? Be seeing you all." He set the pizza box down on a nearby table, pulled a grappling hook out of his pocket and started rappelling back up the chimney.

Malcolm rolled his eyes. "Travis and Connor…the two craziest guys ever to walk this camp."

"Meet Biagio sometime," I said with a yawn as I reached for a slice. Somehow, I felt like I was back home again.

**Well, that's that! Sorry for taking so long with this chapter—I had a bit of writers' block over Spring Break, but I got it done eventually. Pok****ѐ****topia**** readers, I'm about half done with the next chapter and hope to have that done forthwith! Thanks to all of my readers for putting up with such a long absence—life's been busy. Four musical rehearsals a week…!**

**SO, Jason and Biagio have both been claimed, although everyone had guessed Athena and Aphrodite by this point. It was kind of obvious, yeah, but there's no way the characters themselves could have known beforehand, and I hope it was a well-written scene regardless.**

**Mr. D has debuted! He was extremely fun to write. Of course, in the next chapter he'll get everyone's names wrong. I have a plan for that sequence that should turn out to be extremely funny.**

**I've introduced a pretty important character in Ashley Summers. You'll see a lot more of her later.**

**Stay tuned for the next chapter: "I Fall in Battle"! Also, you'd be well-advised to check out The Swift Storm, another really good Percy Jackson fiction on this site.**

**Maecenas out.**


	5. Love, Dreams, and Other Weapons

**Disclaimer: I don't pretend to be able to rise from my lowly station to claim any sort of equality or ownership connected with the excellent Rick Riordan. But, Mount Olympus and the gods were my original idea. The Greeks stole 'em.**

…**Kidding about that last one.**

Chapter V: I Encounter Dreams, Love, and Other Deadly Weapons

So, naturally, after a day in which I'd been wrenched from my normal life into a crazy, supernatural world of gods and monsters, in addition to learning that my mom, rather than being a divorcee, was in fact Athena the eternal goddess of wisdom, I fell into a deep and peaceful sleep immediately.

I hope the sarcasm in that last paragraph was sufficiently evident.

Personally, I've always been an extremely vivid dreamer. Some people have told me that when they dream, it's just a tangled mess of sensations, but I can't even picture anything like that. My dreams have always been as vivid as the waking world, whether they depict things that have actually happened to me—which is pretty common—or more bizarre visions. Annabeth tells me now that this is another demigod thing—our dreams apparently tend to show us our destinies, or the murderous plans of our enemies.

Lovely.

Anyway, it would seem that getting to Camp Half-Blood was something of a trigger for my dreams, for as soon as I'd gotten used to all the unfamiliar sets of deep breathing that surrounded me in the Athena Cabin and nodded off, I found myself in a coffee shop.

If I'd been physically present in the dream I would've blinked in surprise. But it looked like I could only observe for now, so I started scanning the area. The place seemed pretty normal—abstract art setting the tone of the room, muted saxophones and sugary smells wafting through the air, harried-looking teenagers in aprons preparing lattes and ringing up pastries. But my eyes were drawn to the customers at the front of the line.

They all seemed to be around my age; most of them were girls, a few were boys. The girl nearest to the counter, though, looked somehow familiar. It was something about the mahogany hair, the pale skin, the forest green hoodie…

I could've gasped. It was none other than Ashley Summers, the girl I'd met the previous day.

I forced my consciousness to drift closer to Ashley, who seemed to be arguing with one of her friends. "Come on, Heather. No matter how cool this camp is, I told you, I already have plans for this summer."

Her friend frowned, absently fiddling with the necklace she was wearing. "I just wanted to make sure you've decided. I think time is running out."

Heather's nervous tone reminded me strangely of Flint. Ashley shot her a puzzled look, her emerald-hued eyes shining in the cloudy light of the storefront windows. "You mean for the application deadline? I really don't think I wanna bother. Like I said, I'm gonna be really busy with all those extra music lessons and everything. Besides, I don't really want to get on their mailing list."

Heather nervously twisted a strand of her long hair and stared at the coffee-stained floor tiles like they were the last twenty pages of a really compelling novel. "Actually, I wasn't talking about the deadline," she mumbled.

Ashley noticed that she was next in line and the barista was looking impatient, and so she turned away to order, seemingly glad of an excuse to break off the conversation. I, meanwhile, was starting to feel kind of bad about intruding on the discussion, but I couldn't make myself wake up.

Heather's next words sent a chill sweeping through me. "Ashley, does something around here seem kind of odd to you?"

Ashley was starting to look just a little annoyed. "Well, yes, but besides you…"

It was the exact same exchange that had taken place between Flint and myself yesterday, seconds before the blackout and the Fury attack. But before I could mull this coincidence over, something _else_ interesting happened: the counter exploded.

In a sickeningly familiar transformation, the barista had become some sort of scaly monster and lunged toward Ashley and her friends. Muffins and coffee went flying; patrons screamed and dashed for the exits (although a few guys with laptops sitting in the back of the store didn't even look up.)

"_Di Immortale_s_!_" Heather shouted. She leapt nimbly onto what was left of the counter, crouched down, and started chanting, her eyes closed tightly.

Ashley and the rest of her companions were slowly being corralled into a circle by the serpentine monster, which was built along the lines of a human but slithered around on dual snake tails. "_Monthsss_," it hissed ominously. "_I have been here for monthsss, ssserving_ _caramel cappucinos to the mortalsss in thisss wretched place. But at lassst, I have found out what I needed to know. Isssn't that right, Ashely SSSummerssss_?"

Ashley was rooted to the spot, staring at the monster and swaying back and forth slightly. I had an awful feeling that the thing's golden eyes were hypnotizing her. "I don't – what are you talking about?"

Behind them, Heather's chanting had gradually been getting louder and louder. Finally it concluded with a shout, and all of the coffee shop's customers collapsed simultaneously to the floor, apparently knocked out. A sharp, sudden herbal scent stole into the air, and a green fog hovered over all of the unconscious patrons. Only Ashley, Heather, and an aloof-looking guy with dark hair who'd been with their group were still standing.

The serpentine woman laughed, which was far from a pleasant sound. "_Yesss, go on, you pitiful excusssse for a nature ssspirit. Protect the mortalsss while you can. A poor ssssubstitute for you failure as a protector. And now, godlingsss, I shall devour you. And if you don't mind, I'll keep the change._"

But the creature barely even had time to lunge forward before she exploded into a dingy shower of dust with a final, echoing shriek, leaving only the damage she'd caused in the shop and a gold nametag reading "Elise." Heather stood behind her, apparently having jumped down from the counter, holding a short dagger which she shoved back into her shoulder bag in disgust. "Oh, I hate stabbing things. Ashley, Colton , are you okay?" I noticed that the rather stylish wool hat she'd been wearing had been dislodged by the battle, revealing her long, pointy ears.

All things considered, I didn't think Ashley could be blamed for screaming.

Heather sighed and looked nervously around her. A few of the coffee store's patrons were beginning to stir. "I only have time for the short version. Basically, I'm a dryad, a nature spirit, like the _dracenea_ said. Heather isn't just my name, I'm actually … yeah. We need to get you out of here."

She turned to face the other guy, looking seriously exasperated. "Colton, why didn't you tell me you were a demigod? I had no idea!"

He shrugged, looking weirdly complacent given everything that had just happened. "Well, I didn't know either."

The dryad blew her bangs out of her face and started picking her way through the maze of unconscious caffeine addicts that stood between her and the door. "Come on, let's go."

The door swung open with a little _ding_ and the three of them left just as my vision dissolved.

* * *

The following morning I woke up rather more suddenly than usual, blinked a few times, and, looking around, found that I was still in the Athena Cabin.

Well, by golly.

Before I had time to really process anything, I was interrupted yet again, this time by one of the other Athena kids (possibly Steven, judging from the accent. I realized that it was going to take a while for me to get all of my new siblings straight). "Whenever you're ready, Jason, you can join the rest of us for breakfast in the dining hall. It's that big open building at the top of the hill, you can't miss it. We got you a camp t-shirt, too." With that he tossed one of the eye-wateringly orange shirts onto my bunk and turned to go.

"Thanks, I'll be there in a second," I called after him. He nodded and left.

Well, I told myself, by this point the evidence seems pretty clear that the events of yesterday weren't all just a dream after all. That's … something.

Deciding shortly thereafter that any further introspection could wait until after breakfast, I pulled on the camp t-shirt and the only pair of shorts to which I currently had access – the ones I'd arrived in – and strolled out the door.

I found myself looking up at the sky on my way to the mess hall, as if to see whether it looked any different now that the Greek gods were, apparently, real. Just as I was concluding that it didn't, someone I had never seen before in my life threw her arms around me.

I came down to earth. Quickly.

My mind, which had been extremely busy a second ago, now only seemed to have room for two thoughts:

There's a hot girl I've never met before hugging me, and

…Well, actually, I guess that first one was pretty much it.

Whoever it was detached herself from me with a giggle. "Hey Jason."

My face felt like it was on fire, and I silently cursed myself for not being half as smooth as Biagio in times like these. That was largely due to lack of experience – like I said, I'm a total geek, and up until five seconds ago hadn't even been able to picture something like this happening.

My mind scrambled for an explanation, and in a few seconds one clicked into place. "Um, are you, uh, sure you're not confusing me with that other Jason, the son of Zeus? Apparently, we look pretty similar. I'm Jason Williams, though. I just got here and ..."

The girl cut me off, her coffee-colored eyes sparking. "Oh, yeah, I know who you are. Biagio said you were a son of Athena, right? I think that's totally awesome. I just wanted to be one of the first to introduce myself. I'm Melanie Adams, daughter of Aphrodite."

I blinked and coughed a bit, not at all sure how to respond to all this. Bear in mind, I've never been on so much as one date in my life, and whenever a school dance is coming around, girls avoid me about as much as vampires avoid garlic. It's to be noted that this is one of the many, many factors that make me different from Biagio.

Even though everything around me had suddenly changed forever, I'd been taking some comfort in the fact that I was, at least, still basically the same person. But now, this girl Melanie was making me doubt even that, and it was all getting to be just too much to handle.

Deep psychological concerns aside, it's also pretty hard to think clearly when somebody like Melanie is looking at you, with a few strands of hair falling past her eyes and that teasing sort of half-smile that …

_Snapoutofit, Jason!_

"Um…hi," I said with great verve and intelligence. I suddenly realized that that was the same brilliant conversation opener I'd used with Ashley the previous night, and experienced a strong urge to disgustedly smack myself in the face.

I made a feeble attempt to salvage the conversation. "So … I … yeah. Uh, what's it like being a daughter of Aphrodite?"

She shrugged. "It's kind of different, now. We just got a new counselor last winter – this girl named Piper McLean."

I grinned. "Not related to Tristan, by any chance?" I imagined that she probably got that a lot – having the same last name as a celebrity means that no one can resist making the same cheap jokes over and over. I should know better, though, since people keep asking me about my dad's next film score …

I was, therefore, rather startled at Melanie's next words, which were "Yes, actually. She's his daughter." "Oh come on, Jason," she continued, "don't give me that surprised look. Gods always go for humans who make a name for themselves in the world. They think it's cute. I don't need some famous name, though. You …" She backed up and corrected herself really obviously –"ahem, I mean I'm better than that."

She was really standing uncomfortably close to me. My mind was babbling at about a million miles an hour, but I couldn't understand a word it was saying.

I must've missed the clearing of throats and mocking laughter some ten feet ahead of me during the general rush – feeling like you face is on fire does that to you – but as Melanie (thankfully) backed away, I noticed a bunch of supermodel-type people in orange shirts standing in that direction. "Come on, Mel, if you don't tear yourself away, you're going to miss breakfast," one of them admonished her.

"Sorry! See you around, Jason," she told me. "And I'm sorry I sort of jumped on you like that. I'm just looking forward to … getting to know you." And with that, she was gone.

I guess we'd been walking away from the cabins during the conversation – or something – because a Greek-columned pavilion filled with what looked like most of the camp now loomed ahead of me. It smelled remarkably like pancakes, so I concluded that it was the mess hall.

Food. That was good. That was something else I could concentrate on.

Shaking my head, I continued up the hill, determined not to think about what had happened for a while.

* * *

The passing of a few minutes found me in the pavilion, standing in a long line with the rest of my cabin and holding a plate of waffles and bacon. I had been informed when I arrived that apparently, it was a mealtime tradition at Camp Half-Blood to sacrifice the best portion of your food to the flames as an offering to your godly parent. I supposed that made sense, although I looked with regret at my choicest bacon strip as it was immolated in the flames of the brazier.

A few seconds later, I changed my mind. A shimmering veil of smoke rose languidly from the brazier, smelling like any number of wonderful things. I caught the earthy, pungent smell of olives, a sharp smell like a stronger version of the pine trees outside, spicy hints of garlic, even a touch of double cheeseburger. Anything but charred bacon, essentially. Nearly as soon as I detected it, it was gone. I closed my eyes for a second and awkwardly tried to send a thought to Athena, whom I still had trouble thinking of as an actual, living entity.

I slid back onto the Athena table's marble bench, feeling like the newbie member of the Blonde Squad (the guys closest to me were laughing uproariously over some injoke that seemed to involve the Apollo cabin, a wild boar, and a Greek trireme). I'd slowly been starting to realize just how hungry two monster attacks between as many meals could make you, and set to work savaging my waffles.

I had a lot on my mind, and it took Annabeth three tries to get my attention. At length I heard her and looked up. "Sorry, what?'

I heard a few chuckles among my siblings. Malcolm looked at me thoughtfully until I started to feel like an exceptionally difficult math problem. "Hang on, I've seen that blank, flustered stare before," he eventually said. "Someone from Aphrodite's been after you, am I right?"

You probably know enough about me by now to know that I was way too flustered to say anything, but my total lack of a poker face spoke volumes. A wave of wry, knowing grins spread around the table, like everyone had seen this before.

Annabeth sighed. "That must be a lot to deal with on your first day here. The Aphrodite cabin can be kind of like our opposite sometimes – love isn't always rational. It can make you do stupid things. And when Athena and Aphrodite kids meet, something dramatic usually happens. I'm not saying that's a bad thing – wisdom sometimes needs love to balance it out. But my advice? Don't think that means that they're airheads over in Cabin Ten. They're always planning something or other."

I digested this, impressed by how perceptive my new siblings all seemed to be. I wondered if Sherlock Holmes was in the Athena family tree somewhere.

"That aside," Annabeth continued, stabbing a piece of toast in a let's-get-down-to-business kind of way, "Since you're a new camper, and since I'm your head counselor, I'm going to be showing you some of our weapons, to see if we can find out where your strengths lie. With some cabins it's obvious – like Apollo and arrows and Ares and, well, everything – but since Athena is the goddess of battle, I have no idea what your specialty might be."

Malcolm grinned. "You should've seen Percy Jackson trying to shoot an arrow. Nearly offed a couple of campers in his day."

"But then, if you gave him a sword, he was brilliant," commented another Athena girl, someone with shorter blond hair who I didn't recognize. "We'll be able to figure out your schedule for this summer if we know what you're good at."

As they all started chipping in – talking about ranged and melee weapons, fighting styles, and trying to be at least somewhat proficient at nearly everything – I was getting increasingly nervous. Fleeing in terror was one thing – and, indeed, it had at least gotten me to this point alive – but I wasn't at all sure about starting to handle actual weapons.

Furthermore, it appeared that I had finished with my breakfast, thereby depriving myself of my one excuse to stall. Great.

Well, the nerd in me (at least 62% total) might think I was crazy, but if I was a Greek hero now, I wasn't about to betray any fear. I'd seen enough movies in which the hero turns out to be surprisingly adept with a blade to conclude that this was worth a shot.

_When in Rome_, said my brain, delighting in the irony. I sighed. "Okay. Where should we start?"

* * *

"Oh come on, Jason," Annabeth complained. "That's got to be the first time I've ever seen a straw dummy look like it was _winning_."

It was about half an hour later, and I was standing in a dusty amphitheater, holding a sword made out of something called celestial bronze and trying to keep the sun out of my eyes. So far, I'd been doing miserably at swordfighting. Holding and swinging a sword properly had turned out to be a _lot _harder than your average epic fantasy movie implies, and as soon as I'd summon the guts necessary to take a stab (ha) at one of the basic maneuvers that Annabeth had shown me, I'd lose my balance again. I was sweating like crazy, my hands were covered in calluses, and I felt like a _total _freshman, in the worst possible sense of the term.

I made another flailing disaster of myself, thanking the gods (I was trying to get into the habit) that I had at least kept all of my limbs. For now. "Y'know, I just don't thing swords are really my thing. Should we try something else?"

Annabeth, who for a moment had looked like she was trying not to laugh, nodded quickly. "Maybe archery?" she suggested. "That's more like our cabin, I suppose. It could be that swordplay is just too personal and in-your-face for you…with a bow and arrow, it's all in your mind. Precision is the key. Let's see how you do."

She jogged out of the arena and I followed, drowning in a sea of second thoughts.

The Apollo cabin happened to be practicing archery at the edge of the lake, so Annabeth and I grabbed a couple of extra bows and got in line with the rest of the group. I quickly discerned exactly how much of a fool I was about to make of myself—as I watched the Apollo kids shoot, I began to remember that their father was, among other things, a god of archery.

It showed. The more experienced campers treated dead-on bullseyes like they were no big deal, and even the newer half-bloods were showing off some extremely impressive skills.

Suddenly, I noticed that one of these new demigods was none other than Ashley Summers, who'd apparently been claimed the previous night. I was reminded of the odd dream about her I'd just had, and was so lost in thought that I missed most of Annabeth's hurriedly whispered instructions about how to nock an arrow. I hoped the Cliffs Notes amount I'd actually heard would be sufficient for now.

Annabeth took a quick turn after the Apollo kids to show me how it was done—naturally she was incredible, although she'd admitted earlier that knives were more her thing. As I vaguely watched the arrows whiz through the air, the gleaming sunlight making them look like flashes of lightning, I realized that it had been almost exactly twenty-four hours since the whole crazy adventure had started.

I was still grappling with the stark revelation that your whole life could _change, _just like that—yesterday morning I'd been wondering whether I could finish my Basic Psych homework during study hall, and now everything I knew had been ripped away, and here I was now, about to shoot some arrows at a camp for children of the gods. I felt like I'd suddenly absorbed an encyclopedia—there was a whole new world I had to come to terms with all of a sudden.

And here I was, trying to get a solid footing on the sandy lakeshore (apparently Cabin Seven had been practicing there for the extra challenge) and string an arrow at the same time. Trying to remember what I'd been told, I pulled the string back and let fly.

A sudden, jagged flare of pure pain, and then darkness.

* * *

Groggily, I tried to force my eyelids open, but only the right one seemed to work. When I persisted with the left, it hurt – a LOT – so I gave up.

Disorientingly, I was now in a bed with crisp sheets and vintage-y looking blankets, surrounded by posters that all seemed to be rather cheesy mythological riffs on those school-infirmary "stay healthy "ones. The one exception was a massive painting in a style that reminded me of Leonardo da Vinci. It depicted a bearded, toga-clad shap and his pet snake, and was labeled "ASCLEPIVS." Licking my lips, I caught an out-of-place aftertaste of grilled cheeseburger – the ones like my dad would always make, grilled with all sorts of fancy techniques, marinades and seasonings just so he could show off. Even the vague aftertaste brought memories rolling back. A thought drifted out from the depths of my pain-addled cranium: Biagio had said something similar about the ambrosia he'd been given, only with lasagna.

It was about five rather boring minutes later – I'd memorized the details of ASCLEPUVS' beard for lack of anything better to do, and was starting to get seriously annoyed by that pain in my left eye—that Annabeth stopped in and found that I was awake. She was followed by two other campers – an in-charge-looking guy I remembered from my archery session, and none other than Ashely Summers.

Annabeth surveyed me critically and asked if I felt all right, but was interrupted from behind by a loud "SNERK" as the Apollo guy frantically struggled to stop himself from laughing.

From this, I was beginning to piece together that something with the archery lesson had gone rather badly awry, but still I felt too addled to get any further. "Um, what … what happened here?" I managed.

The Apollo guy gave up and melted into hysterics. Annabeth shot him a look. "You, um, let go of the arrow at the wrong time, and it snapped back and hit you in the eye. Mr. Sensitive here, Will Solace, says you're gonna be okay."

"I'm – s – sorry," Will managed between gasps. "Just never seen anyone _do_ that before. Anyway, this was right up my alley, since Apollo's the god of medicine as well as archery. We gave you some ambrosia, patched up the wound – don't touch it! – and you should have peripheral vision and everything back in about a week." He saluted casually and sauntered out, and to his credit didn't laugh again while he was still in earshot.

Ashley stepped forward with an apologetic sort of half-grin, her usually pale face going all pink. "Sorry – I just wanted to tag along and stop in – I felt really bad about your …"

" Making a total fool out of myself?" I supplied. "No, it's cool. We all have our strengths and weaknesses, I suppose."

Looking at her, I couldn't get that strange dream out of my head. It felt odd that I had seen part of her story without knowing how – like I was keeping some sort of secret that even I couldn't identify.

I decided to change the subject. "So, you were claimed by Apollo, I guess?"

She nodded. "I stayed at the Hermes Cabin last night – I just got claimed early this morning. I guess it makes sense – I'm a music geek, and I even took some archery lessons once. Apparently that's pretty common for—for us."

"My name feels like some kind of sick pun, now, though."

I chuckled, "I guess I'm just lucky that I wasn't called …" I reached around for the right name – "Um, Jason Owl, or Jason Socrates, or something."

Ashley and I made awkward demigod-hospital-bedside small talk for another minute or two (something I hope you never have to go through) and after she left, Annabeth asked to talk to me alone for a second.

For what felt like several minutes she paced around, studying me closely. Anyone who's ever thought of gray as a boring color, trust me, you've never seen an Athena kid's eyes when they're really concentrating on something. I started to worry that her intense gaze would cause me to just quietly burst into flames before she finished her analysis.

"Jason…" Annabeth said eventually, and I was surprised to hear something of a tremor in her voice. She had always seemed totally in control in the short time I'd known her, but now she almost sounded scared. "I don't want to tell you too much. This is a dangerous subject, and regular campers aren't supposed to know, but Chiron thinks there's something odd about the way you got here. Just don't tell anyone I asked you this."

She collapsed onto an uncomfortable-looking chair in the corner of the room. "Does the name Gaea mean anything to you?"

I thought about it. "Umm, isn't that the earth spirit that hippies…" I remembered the connection halfway through my sentence. "Oh, wait, wasn't she the first goddess in Greek mythology?"

Annabeth nodded pensively. "Right. Do you recognize these lines? _Seven half-bloods will answer the call, to storm or fire…_no?"

I'd been shaking my head, feeling increasingly puzzled. Annabeth got up and turned to leave, then stopped herself and asked one last question.

"Do you know any Latin?"

I thought about this for a moment, then repeated, as best as I could remember, the motto I'd seen over the Athena cabin's door the previous day. Annabeth froze in her tracks, looking severely shaken. "Jason, it doesn't say anything like that, and it's in Greek. Do you have any idea why you saw it that way? I'm at a loss."

I shrugged, resisting the urge to rub my wounded eye, and crashed back down onto the mattress. "Sorry, I don't know anything."

Never in my life had I felt more like that was true.

* * *

**Hey all, this is Maecenas, back again after a notable Jason Williams absence.  
This one, however, has a definite cause: "The Lost Hero" was released in the time after Chapter 4, and those of you who have read it probably noticed some strong similarities to my story. It goes far beyond a blond hero named Jason (great minds, eh?)—a lot of things I'd planned for later on in my series were similar to stuff in the Heroes of Olympus. I guess I'm pretty much just a mini-Riordan, or something…**

**Therefore, I reworked my long-term plans for Jason Williams a little, and I think it's going to be a better story for it. The challenge was actually helpful in refining some of my long-term plans. In addition, you can expect to see chapters 1-4 getting some minor alterations in the coming weeks (including a bonus manticore attack!)**

**Meanwhile, I hope you liked Chapter 5! Thanks for reading as always.**

**Maecenas out.**


	6. I Fall in Battle

Chapter VI: I Fall in Battle

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Greek Gods, nor the works of Rick Riordan. Sadly, I also don't own Jason Williams' mechanical owl. What owl? Read on…**

If there's one thing I've learned over the past year or so, it's that humans—and, sure, demigods—can really adapt to almost anything.

Every now and then, you'll hear about someone marooned on a desert island who gets so accustomed to their new home that when they're finally rescued, civilization feels strange to them. And of course, my life had been kind of the same way lately, everything I'd taken for granted changing at warp speed.

High school? It was a pretty major transition, I'll admit, but I'd mastered it with relative ease. And just when I'd gotten used to that…

Finding out that you're the son of a goddess and being taken to Camp Half-Blood? That's kind of a bigger transition.

Still, in the weeks that followed the shooting-myself-in-the-face incident, things began to seem almost normal, at least if you stuck to the vague idea of "expect the unexpected." And, admittedly, once the shock wears off, it's really pretty cool being part god.

I still hadn't found a weapon that I was very good at, except for a bronze-tipped wooden staff that I was all right at smacking people with. Still, it was pretty clear that even with that, I wasn't headed for ninja-dom any time soon. On the bright side, my new eye patch at least made me look tougher.

Weapons aside, though, there was plenty to keep me occupied at Camp Half-Blood. I felt like I'd need several lifetimes to see it all.

There was Arts and Crafts, where you could work on anything from sculpting marble to forging a flaming sword of doom, and a project was judged to be a good one if it looked nice and could kill you in three seconds. In my first week, I cobbled together a marble owl sculpture that turned out pretty well, then watched, dumbfounded, as a camper from Hephaestus made a few slight alterations that turned it into an automaton. It would retrieve anything I wanted from the Athena cabin's library, which I guess was pretty cool, but it also breathed fire at unpredictable intervals.

I was introduced to Iris-Messaging soon after my arrival. Evidently, use of wireless technology can attract monsters, so demigods rely on the rainbow goddess Iris to carry messages instead of cell phones. Speaking into the rainbow-throwing glass wall of the Iris cabin, I reached my dad and tried to explain what had happened to me over the past few days. He was pretty calm about it all, and admitted he'd known my mom was Athena all along. This only flabbergasted me further, but I tried to take it in stride.

We all took horse-riding lessons, coached by the Aphrodite cabin, and when we'd mastered the basics our horses – oh wait, _pegasi_ – unfurled their wings and we took to the air. As it turns out, equestrianism in three dimensions is substantially more difficult, but I actually seemed to be catching on after a while. A flying horse would certainly have been useful against the Fury…

And my own cabin was in charge of teaching Greek and the studies of gods and monsters. At first, it seemed like studying mythology was a little less practical than everything else, but then I remembered where we were. When Annaabeth started talking about the time she'd fought Laestrygonian cannibal giants in a school gym, and how to sneak up on them properly, I definitely paid attention.

At the end of every day, there would be a huge gathering around a campfire at the edge of the forest, where marshmallows would be toasted and songs would be sung. The Apollo cabin led us in a weird mix of hymns to the gods and cheesy campfire tunes that all the regulars seemed to know. Everyone was counting down the days until camp officially started for the summer – evidently we were all just new arrivals, early arrivals and the year-round crowd – and capture the flag, whatever that entailed, started again.

What I could never get used to, though, was the dreams.

It quickly became evident that my weird vision of Ashley Summers had only been the beginning. Before too long I was waking up shivering every morning after nightmares filled with mocking inhuman laughter and flashbacks to the Fury and the manticore. I also kept seeing Ashley and Biagio for reasons I couldn't explain – once, I even saw the whole escape from my high school from Biagio's point of view, getting front-row seats to exactly how freaked-out I'd looked.

Most disturbing of all, though, was the … I have to call it a _vision_ … that I had two weeks or so after my arrival. Unlike most of my other dreams, which would come and go, this one started as soon as I closed my eyes.

I saw a cave – little more than a crag scissoring its way through a rock wall – surrounded by bleak-looking grass and skeletal trees. For a moment all was still but the howling of the wind, but that was about to change dramatically.

Without warning, an enormous blaze of light started within the cave and exploded outward, lighting up the night sky and blowing the grass right off the ground. Even in a dream my eyes were totally dazzled, like I'd been staring at the sun. When I recovered my eyesight, I saw a gut-wrenching spectacle beginning to unfold, straight out of a horror movie.

The rock face and the cave had torn themselves apart, and a titanic, shadowed figure stood in the middle of the smoking rubble. He had to have been at least fifteen feet tall—he towered over my vision, even in the dream—and was built like a wrestler. All I could see besides his bulky silhouette were his glowing eyes and a wicked-looking pair of horns crowning his head, as though he were a devil or a Viking.

_**"FREEDOM!" **_the giant roared in a baritone that would've made Darth Vader proud. This was followed by a really disturbing fit of menacing, deep-voiced giggling. "I might have known that the ignominy of death couldn't hold me for long!"

He chuckled again, and thunder crashed in the sky above him. "Poor demigods—all _so serious _about destroying me. Pah! I am an _immortal._" He threw back his head and roared, making me suddenly certain that I was about to die. And that was _before _he addressed me by name.

"Jason!" the giant bellowed. "What do you think now of your so-called triumph?"

It seemed like he could've gone on in that vein until sunrise, but fortunately for me, he was interrupted at this point by a bolt of fire that cascaded down from the sky and struck like lightning before him, nearly giving me another heart attack.

With a sudden _hiss _of wind, the fire blew itself out, leaving only a few embers crackling in what was left of the grass and a man standing where the flames had been.

He was wearing some sort of dark clothing, so I couldn't pick him out well against the night, but he looked like an ordinary human—perhaps a little taller than normal, but nothing like the first figure. The conversation that ensued between the two of them was rapid and pretty quiet, but here's everything I managed to understand and remember:

FIRE GUY: "…unanticipated."

GIANT (who was much easier to hear): "Oh, you're surprised to see me, little thief? It's only natural that loyalty such as mine should be rewarded. I'm not surprised much easier to hear): "Oh, you're surprised to see me, little thief? It's only natural that loyalty such as mine should be rewarded. I'm not surprised _you _managed to come out of it alive, though. WEASEL."

FIRE GUY: "No need for unpleasantry. You may call me a traitor all you like, but the fact is that you're the one who died. Has it occurred to you …(didn't hear that part)…goal in mind?"

GIANT: "WE HAVE LOST! Where is your goal NOW? More playthings for your human pets, I suppose? Does humanity need more fire? A hamster ball?"

FIRE GUY: (chuckling) "really…but I know you. You resent having been left out from the attack, do you not? Always the last, perpetually relegated to an obscurity, a trivia-card existence at best rather than the power your status deserves. True, our leader is slain, but what if a greater reward…" (at this point Fire Guy started whispering to Giant, and I didn't hear any of it.)

GIANT: (grunt) "If you have accurately represented the situation, there might be some merit in what you say. I will consult with you, but one wrong move, crafty one…"

(the beginnings of lightning playing around bunched fists.)

FIRE GUY: "Understood. But let us away…we're being _watched._"

And with that, they both turned towards me, and my dream was consumed in flames. The next thing I was aware of was pain.

I woke up suddenly and found that I was sprawled on the Athena Cabin's floor, apparently having fallen. It's worth noting here that I have a top bunk.

Malcolm helped me up. "Jeez, Jason, are you _trying _to take up permanent residence in the infirmary or something? Maybe give the Apollo Cabin a practice case for raising the dead?" I had to admit that he had a point—between this and my recent acquisition of the eye patch, I seemed to be rapidly turning into an injury magnet.

I struggled for breath. "S-sorry…dream…s-s…startled me."

I'd expected a skeptical answer, but apparently my new siblings understood. Annabeth, over at the other end of the cabin, hurriedly finished brushing her hair and strode over. "Sorry to interrupt, but that wasn't a normal dream, was it? Sometimes, demigod dreams are more like…visions. Whenever anyone's on a quest, dreams can show what their enemies are planning, or what will happen to them in the future. Ordinarily I wouldn't ask, but this might be really important. Do you remember anything?"

I shrugged and gave her the rundown on what I recalled.

Annabeth bit her lip, looking concerned, and studied the middle distance in that particular "trying to think of a plan" way that I was coming to associate with the Athena kids. "Jason, I don't know for sure what all of that means, but it can't be anything good. What with…" she looked like she was about to tell me something but then, exasperatingly, decided against it.

"I'd better talk to Chiron." And with that, she was gone. I sighed and stared out the cabin door into the sunshine, finding that I had to get used to how the real world felt again after my horrifying vision.

My other half-sister, Alexis, strolled up to me, maintaining her typical early-morning death grip on a mug of coffee (she'd probably fallen asleep in the library again). "I'm sorry about that, Jason. I guess there's always some secret under wraps at this camp that we non-head-counselor types don't know about. Maybe it's something to do with Percy Jackson being gone … "

Steven swung down from his bunk, looking apprehensive and sleepy at the same time. "Well, whatever it was, it didn't sound too promising. Like those two were making a deal … you know there was a big meeting right after Jason, Pipes and Leo got back from their avest this past winter."

Alexis frowned. "So?"

"Just brainstorming here, looking for connections. Well, at least we know it can't be Kronos again, since we all went and killed ourselves getting him destroyed last year … "

As I stood watching, I felt a weird mixture of gratification and annoyance at something so seemingly trivial as a dream turning into a discussion for the whole cabin. Back in what I still thought of as "the real world", describing the meeting I'd seen take place wouldn't have gotten me anything but a cozy afternoon chat with a psychologist. Clearly, Socrates would've loved these guys.

Fortunately, Malcolm remembered me. "Hey, don't stress out too much about it. Besides, since the dream came to you, you might wind up on a quest soon. I'll bet the Fates have a plan for you."

I must've looked very much not reassured, so Malcolm hastily changed the subject. "But hey, forget all that now. It's Thursday: campers have been streaming in all week, and that means our first Capture the Flag game is tomorrow night. The one we've all been waiting for!"

He strode into the center of the cabin, clapping his hands for attention. "All right, guys! We're gonna be facing Ares and Apollo with a full house in a little more than thirty hours. Not to mention this year we have minor god cabins to worry about as well. I want to see you all changed and ready in five minutes, and we'll meet Annabeth in the amphitheater for a strategy meeting!"

I sighed and reached for my camp t-shirt, wondering how I'd look with two eye patches.

Annabeth looked to be concentrating even harder than usual. She had a big piece of parchment – a map of the forest, I realized – spread out on the ground, and we all gathered around as she explained.

"As you know, Ares has the biggest cabin on their side this week, but we have Hephaestus and Hermes. Basically, it's going to be total war on both sides, so I think we should try to sneak their flag around the main body of conflict."

The others nodded and probably would've delved right into tactics, but I nervously raised my hand. "Um, sorry if this is stupid, but … the objective is basically just to bring the opponent's flag to your base."

Annabeth shrugged wryly, her blond hair iridescent in the morning sun. "That's how you win, sure, but that's like saying soccer is just about goals. Everyone's going to have a weapon and armor, and then there are magic items. I never showed you this, did I?"

She pulled a battered-looking Yankees cap out of her pocket, put it on, and disappeared entirely.

"Anyway," my older sister's disembodied voice continued, "the red team is probably going to guess what we're up to, so there are two main paths they can take around to ambush our flag carrier. However, we're going to take advantage of this shortcut by those hills, way to the east here." She traced it on the map.

"We aren't expecting any trouble there, because it's kind of out the way, but Jason -" I snapped back to attention – "it's your job to guard it. You should be prepared to fight, but it should be pretty quiet."

I sighed in relief, making that darn eye patch flutter against my face. "Trust me, I'm just fine with that."

Annabeth smirked in a sympathetic way (it's hardly just anyone who can manage that.) "Right. Are you ready to talk weapons again?"

A few hours later, the weapons in which I'd demonstrated the most proficiency had turned out to be the knife and fork. I was in my regular spot at the end of the Athena table in the dining pavilion (I refuse to say "mess hall"), already clad in full Greek armor, and using those weapons to mangle a plate of baby-back ribs. I fervently hoped that that was all the heavy action I'd see that night.

All afternoon, the atmosphere around the camp had felt like the week before the Super Bowl. Not just any Super Bowl, either – one with the Steelers in it. It seemed like every few feet, you'd bump into a camper or two practicing, discussing tactics or placing bets on the outcome (that wacky Hermes cabin).

The Hephaestus cabin had been locked in the forges all day long, presumably making traps and weapons. That was great news, as they were on our team.

As the sun had set over the valley, the excitement had only intensified, and I'd never heard the pavilion sound so deafening. To stave off nerves, my siblings had decided not to talk about the game at all. Instead, they were having a spirited debate about Damocles – the dude who had a sword perpetually dangling above his head.

It wasn't staving off nerves.

"See, now, that's where I think you're wrong," I said hesitantly, feeling a bit like a sixth-grader trying to argue with a college professor. "Sure, if the sword had snapped sooner or later and shish-ke-babbed him, the inevitability of death would've been the point. But instead of that, it's always there – the idea is that everyone needs to be cautious and appreciate the stakes."

Alexis nodded. "I see your point. Oh, and speaking of which … "

Chiron was slamming a hoof on the pavilion floor, which quieted the place down pretty quickly. "Heroes!" he shouted, in an official tone that sounded like he'd said this many times before. "You know the rules. The creek is the boundary line. The entire forest is fair game. All magic items are allowed. The banner must be prominently displayed, and have no more than two guards. Prisoners may be disarmed, but may not be bound or gagged. I will serve as referee and battlefield medic."

"Arm yourselves!" he concluded, sweeping one arm in a long arc across one of the tables, which happened to be empty. Just as I began to wonder about the purpose of that bit of theatrics, the table suddenly bristled with glinting bronze weaponry that hadn't been there a second ago.

Naturally, the new weapons table was mobbed instantaneously, and a bunch of little fistfights broke out as the Ares cabin grappled for all of the best stuff. I hesitantly moved in as the chaos was abating and grabbed an acceptable-looking spear.

The team gathered around Annabeth, who was holding a giant silvery flag, for a last-second meeting. Everyone looked really excited and seemed to be having the time of their lives, so I started to feel a little out-of-place for only thinking, I am most certainly about to die.

"Right, Blue Team, listen up." Annabeth looked at each of us in turn, the very picture of a master strategist. "If we plan this right, Ares and their hired thugs will never know what hit them. The main body of you need to distract the Reds right in the center. Be sure to fight bravely; you'll be essential. Jason, Butch, Alexis, Ryan – you four will be protecting our flag route. Hopefully the reds won't suspect our plan, but you should … "

"_Ciao_, Jason."

Of course, it was Biagio, who had sort of melted out of the night and snuck up behind me. I was getting a lot harder to surprise lately, but still started a bit, whipping around to find him wearing a black camo shirt, sunglasses (at night!), and armor, carrying a white flag.

Despite the flag, he also appeared to be armed. I took a closer look and smacked my palm into my face. "_Nunchucks_, Biagio? _Seriously_?"

"As a matter of fact, yes," he confirmed nonchalantly. "Just wanted to drop by to warn you and your friends that even though your side is supposed to be so infernally clever and we're supposed to be mindless jocks, we have an awesome array of godly powers on our side and our victory is certain." He flashed us his trademark "Rakish-and-Daring" grin, which he doubtless bottles and sells to movie stars out of his basement. "And that's even without considering that they have the Power of d'Amore on their side … " he started twirling the nunchucks around, causing an ominous jingling noise, then accidentally struck himself quite hard in the shoulder. Winded, he grasped at a table for support.

A storm of giggling spread through the Blue Team, making me feel oddly like I was back at high school again. Doing his best to salvage his cool, Biagio made an epic-level courtly bow and wandered off.

I glared at Alexis. "You are _so _not getting breathless over that Casanova."

She shook her head, gasping. "Trust me, it's the laughter."

Annabeth clapped her hands to regain the team's attention. "Well, that just goes to show you. We could probably just leave 'em alone and they'd knock themselves out, but let's beat them to it. Into position!"

Everyone cheered and scrambled out of the pavilion. My stomach suddenly felt like it was filled with helium and my hands were shaking, but there was no turning back now. I followed them into the forest, the clashing of swords already there to greet me.

A few minutes later I was at my post, trying to listen for sounds of battle but hearing only trees rustling in the wind. I was beginning to be reminded of kickball games I'd been roped into repeatedly in grade school, in which I'd inevitably end up marooned way out in the outfield, blandly hoping that anything exciting would occur.

I started idly tracing patterns in the loose dirt of the path with my spear. My post was right in the center of a narrow natural ridge, bounded by heavy forest on one side and a steep slope on the other. Annabeth had placed her guards well, I noted—anyone who wanted to use this path would have to get through me first. There was no way anyone could go around.

My armor was pretty constrictive, and also made me look like a total dork, but with a little effort I could at least move freely. Hopefully, I'd…

I instantaneously snapped into a battle stance, my heart pounding, and furiously surveyed the area. I was sure I'd heard a noise just up ahead…_what had it been?_

I was determined not to say anything and give my position away, just in case I hadn't been seen yet. Sooner or later, they'd have to show themselves, I reflected grimly. Really, what was worse was the waiting, not knowing what I was in for…

A fuzzy little lightning bolt shot out of the woods and scrambled away down the ridge. A…squirrel. It had been a squirrel the whole time, and nothing more.

I breathed a huge sigh of relief, my heart still racing. I'd been seriously freaked out for a second there. I turned around to face the other way, in the interest of being a thorough sentinel, and got a great view of the two burly Red Team soldiers—one of them was Brian, Son of Ares—who had snuck up on me in perfect silence while I'd been distracted by a certain rodent.

There was a second of perfect silence. The warriors were glittering bronze in a patch of moonlight—like the gods themselves thought this was an excellent trick—and they both had huge smirks on their faces.

"Oh…Damocles," I mumbled.

That was apparently as good a signal as any, and they both rushed me faster than I would've thought was possible. I swallowed my fear, hefted the spear and ran forward to meet them.

Brian, who was armed with a wicked-looking mace, casually swept it forward and snapped my weapon in half.

As the newly bisected spear clattered to the dirt, the other guy snuck up behind me and slammed me with a body check that probably would've guaranteed him a hockey scholarship to any college that actually plays hockey. That analysis would only come later, though, as at the time I was kind of busy tumbling helplessly down the ridge, hoping I wasn't about to be skewered by my own armor.

In the last weird joke of a real-life comedy routine I was really starting to hate, called I never even reached the bottom of the hill. I smacked into some sort of outgrowing plant matter that broke my fall and left me pinned awkwardly halfway down, basically unable to move. Also, judging by the little stabbing pains that were reaching me though the gaps in my armor, I believe it was a thorn bush.

"Well, way to go," I muttered. The Ares guys were probably right where I'd left them, ready to ambush our flag carrier. And I'd gotten myself taken out instantly, after putting up about as much fight as the first opponent in a gladiator movie.

As I sprawled there feeling generally wretched, I felt an oddly invigorating wind sweep through the balmy night air. Strangely, I knew I recognized the feeling, but I couldn't place where I'd felt it before.

An unfamiliar voice spoke to me, though it was a voice that also seemed to trigger distant memories I couldn't identify.  
"You look like you could use a little help, Jason."

I heard a clicking noise, like someone snapping their fingers, and I tumbled to the base of the hill, the obstruction apparently gone.

I got uneasily to my feet, and found myself face-to-face with the person who'd spoken.

My jaw dropped, and a tingling feeling of déjà vu swept through my nerves. Just as I'd recognized the voice, I instantly knew who I was looking at.

"Athena?"…I hesitated for a second, then said it. "_Mom?_"

**And we end on a cliffhanger! Sorry if this chapter was a little on the lengthy side; I had a lot of material to cover.**

**So, what will come of Jason's finally meeting his immortal parent? Who will triumph in Capture the Flag? I suppose we'll find out…**

**Poketopia readers, I'm happy to announce that I now have much more free time (as nearly all of my spring activities have wrapped up), so you can expect Chapter 12 forthwith.**

**Until then!**

**Maecenas Out.**


	7. I Think Sharp Thoughts

Chapter VII: I Think Sharp Thoughts

**Disclaimer: As usual, I own none of the elements of Rick Riordan's works, nor those of Greek mythology and the Western literary tradition. However, Jason Williams' weapon is my own creation. Read on to see what I mean!**

Still gasping for breath and with a painful stitch in my side from the fall, I stumbled slowly back and stared at the goddess.

_Athena…my mother. _I had no idea how I was supposed to react to either. For one thing, I'd grown up with only one parent for so long that the idea of my mom had just sort of become an unanswered question, a blank space that had been in the back of my mind for years. I didn't like it, but over time I'd at least gotten used to it.

And for another thing, I was now face to face with the immortal Greek goddess of wisdom and warfare, an entity I would've dismissed as imaginary just a few weeks ago. And the idea that they could be one and the same? Now _that _was mind-bending.

_What do you say? _I asked myself. A casual "hey there" or a formal greeting? Hymns of thanksgiving or a high five?

Athena smiled at me in an understanding way. "I'm sorry for the abrupt appearance," she told me. "I realize that you must have a lot to process right now, but I urgently needed to speak with you."

_I can't believe this is really happening, _I thought. The goddess was about the height and build of a really tall, athletic human, but she was hovering several feet above the ground, making her seem several feet taller. She was clad in one of those traditional Greek…robe-type things, with a war helmet pushed back into her long, dark hair. All of the moonlight in the forest seemed to concentrate on her, making her skin and robes almost glow. Athena looked otherworldly, immortal, and extremely powerful, but at the same time, she looked just a little like me.

Sure, I'd met one god before, but now that I was here Dionysus didn't really seem to count. I was well and truly knocked for a loop.

"I…um…yes…thank you," I stuttered, feeling more than a little pathetic.

Her gray eyes sparkled warmly. "I am glad to see that you've reached camp safely, Jason. I would imagine that right now you're feeling confused, scared, and unstable, and probably a bit useless compared to all of the fine athletic heroes-in-training here, correct?"

I didn't have anything left to do but nod. One look at me, and Athena had figured out just about all of my problems, feelings and motivations. I guess I shouldn't have expected any less from the goddess of wisdom.

She leaned towards me slightly, adopting a thoughtful expression. "On this last point, I am able to both reassure you and assuage your troubles somewhat. Jason Williams, I will tell you right now: you are far more powerful than you know, and of more tremendous importance than you can comprehend. Though your skills may be less obvious than those of some other demigods, you, like all of my children, possess tremendous strength of mind. You need only find the best way to harness it."

"And what … uh, how do I do that?"

The goddess raised a hand to cut off my question. "All in good time. I am sorry to monopolize the conversation like this, but there is much I must tell you and little time to do so. Now, I must ask – " She gave me a _This is very important_ look – "are you aware of the great conflict that now looms before the Olympians, threatening our very survival?"

_Seriously? I just got here. I'm barely on good terms with the fact that there are gods, let alone that there's something out there that could actually pose a threat to them!_ I tried to compress all of these thoughts into one unusually expressive "No."

Athena pursed her lips, looking frustrated. "Then I can tell you no more. I know that must inflame your curiosity intolerably, but direct intervention in the affairs of heroes is against our Ancient Laws. Furthermore, the Fates have decreed that your path must be of your own choosing."

For a few seconds she fixed me with an extremely concerned, almost mournful gaze. I found myself irrationally thinking, _I spend enough time thinking I'm about to die lately without you doing it too!_

I immediately felt embarrassed just for thinking that, though. _You know_, I told myself sternly_, you're talking to an Olympian Goddess, here_. _Don't assume that _you're_ the one with all the answers!_

When I looked back to Athena, her eyes had taken on a glint I would almost describe as mischievous. "That said, I must confess to a long track record of giving my favorite heroes gifts and advice. Perhaps you remember a few of those cases. Perseus, Odysseus, Theodore Roosevelt … also, as the goddess of clever warfare and victory in battle, I cannot resist such a fine example of friendly competition as your Capture the Flag games here."

Everything was going so fast. My mind, still catching up, blazed past "Destroy the gods themselves?" "What was that about my destiny?" and "Wait, did you say Teddy Roosevelt?" before I felt at least somewhat up to speed.

"Okay, what about Capture the Flag? I think I already failed at what I was supposed to do there … "

At the same time, a nervous, expectant feeling kindled itself like a fire in my ribs - almost like my subconscious knew more than I did about what was about to happen.

Athena gave me a dazzling smile. "I think not, Jason Williams. Remember who you are talking to. You might find that you will return to the field of battle precisely when you are needed most. But not without my gift to you – a way to harness your power, as I have promised."

She clapped her hands, and a tremendous barn owl fluttered out of the forest and landed on her shoulder. _The symbol of Athena_, I recalled, thinking of the décor of Cabin Six.

Athena began to sketch in the air, and shimmering lines of blue light followed the motion, creating something like a wireframe blueprint. "A spear, I think," she mumbled to herself. I paid close attention, not wanting to miss any detail. "Perhaps five feet … and … "

She snapped her fingers, and the design hanging in the air swiftly became solid – rich mahogany and glittering bronze replacing the ghostly wireframe, until the whole thing, a gorgeous spear with a wickedly curved bronze point, hung in the air a few feet above me.

Then without warning, it fell, and of course I fumbled the catch. But as I snatched my new spear out of the dirt, everything changed.

I felt a sharp, mental _zing_ immediately, the same kind of sensation I'd felt when being claimed by Athena. And in my hand, the point of the spear erupted into dancing, blue-green flames, the same color as the wireframe that my mother had used to create the weapon.

As I concentrated on the flames, still in total awe, they grew larger and fiercer, until it seemed as if I was holding a torch instead of a spear. As the flame increased, a small flock of last year's dead leaves were blown away from around me, skittering off like a strong wind had just kicked up. However, the wood of the shaft didn't seem to be growing any hotter, and when I cautiously put a hand near the blaze I didn't feel a thing.

Athena was watching me with a self-satisfied sort of smile. "It will respond directly to your thoughts, Jason. From now on, your formidable mental energies will be your weapon, both directly with this spear and in more subtle situations. Use your gifts wisely."

From her shoulder, the owl gave vent to a prolonged, hooting screech, and somehow or other, I swear, I understood it. The stupid bird was saying, _Well, here goes nothing._

I glared at the owl and sent it a mental image of a sizzling Thanksgiving turkey in retaliation. To its owner, I said, "Thank you, Athena … Mother. This is incredible, really."

It was the first time I'd used the _mother_ label and I was a little nervous about how the goddess would react, but she favored me with a warm smile. (The owl, meanwhile, was preening its feathers and pretending not to notice me). "You are welcome, Jason. Now, my time here grows short and your friends are in need of your aid. You will hear from me again when it is safe for us to converse, but for now I will leave you with this advice."

She leaned back in midair and took on a thoughtful expression, and when she spoke again, her voice had an impactful echo behind it. "Dangerous times lie before you, Jason, Be careful where to place your trust. Know your own self well. And, above all, do not fear your destiny."

I was finally getting used to the otherworldly conversation, and there was so much more I'd wanted to ask, but it was clear that my audience with Athena was just about over. "Farewell, Jason Williams," she intoned. "And welcome to our world."

_Good luck; you're going to need it_, added the owl helpfully. And without so much as a second's warning they were gone, leaving the grassy valley much as it had been before, except for a faint, olive-scented breeze lingering in the air and one young demigod (myself) holding a remarkable spear.

I still felt like I had way more questions than answers. Athena had dropped so many little hints about coming danger and whatever my destiny was, but it seemed like for the most part, I would have to figure things out for myself.

I sighed, gazing absentmindedly at the patchy glimpses of indigo, star-covered sky that I could discern through the trees. It was totally incredible to think that I'd just been visited by a goddess. More than anything else, this little episode had driven home to me just how different my life was now from anything I'd known before. The goddess of wisdom probably could've helped me figure it out better than anyone else, but wherever Athena was now, it certainly wasn't here.

I turned my attention to the spear. The geek in me was absolutely rejoicing at it. The power to control it with my mind – even if I didn't know exactly how that worked yet, the thought alone sent a huge thrill of excitement through me.

That was when I noticed something on the shaft of the spear – golden letters shining against the wood, spelling out a glimmering sentence in Ancient Greek. _Sỳn Athēnâi kaì kheîra kinei_.

And I knew what it meant: _Along with Athena, move also your hand. _The goddess had given me an incredible gift, but this seemed to be the goddess' way of saying that from now on, it was going to be up to me.

_Do not fear your destiny, _she had said.

I couldn't help but grin. Perhaps I would be able to accomplish something in this new world, after all …

I was so absorbed in my own thoughts that when the cry of pain came, it completely startled me, making me jump back in shock (well, as well as you can do that in armor; it translates into a slight double-take and a loud clank.)

In all the excitement, I'd practically forgotten that there was still a Capture the Flag game going on. But what was it that Athena had told me? That I would return exactly when I was needed?

_You've got this_, I told myself. My subconscious didn't buy it – apparently, removal of all doubt was not among the spear's powers– but I tried to ignore my pounding heart as I took one last deep breath and charged back up the hill.

* * *

Although I hadn't really done much before getting launched by the Ares guys, it was still clear that my absence had been keenly felt. Without my (admittedly questionable) guarding skills in their way, said Ares guys had run right into the Blue Team flag carrier (some Apollo guy I know by sight only). As I held my position just below the crest of the hill, looking for an opportunity, they disarmed him, Brian grabbed Ares' flag, and together they promptly knocked him unconscious.

_Prisoners may not be bound or gagged_, I remembered Chiron warning. I supposed that was as good a way as any to get around that rule.

I found myself hesitating, my grip on the spear slipping as I sweated profusely. Now was my big chance to act, but these were the same two burly teenage warriors who'd almost killed me in the first place. Was I seriously about to fact them again, this time on purpose?

The part of my mind that was the most honest with itself knew that the more I thought about it, the more I'd psych myself out. Heeding this inner voice, I closed my eyes in sheer terror for a moment, then flung caution to the winds and rushed the Ares guys.

While my deficiencies in the ways of warfare have already been chronicled extensively within these pages, I can at least run quickly. I reached the pair in seconds, and by the time they whipped around in surprise to face me, I was already realizing that I'd better do something _right now_. To that end, I lashed out with my new spear.

The experience that followed was nothing short of incredible. The spear point lit up with blue fire again, but easily the greatest advantage lay in the fact that wherever I thought it should go, I effortlessly found myself matching the action to the thought. No, better than that – the actions and the thoughts seemed to be one. I needed only to envision a jab, block, etc., and it would happen, my arm seemingly taking a back seat in the whole process.

Whereas ordinary warfare had struck me thus far as wretched and exhausting, this was something else entirely. It almost felt more like a video game than real life – and whatever my other shortcomings may be, I am an _excellent_ gamer.

Virtually before I knew what was happening I'd divested Brian of that mace of his, slammed him squarely in the chest with the burning spear point, and sent him crashing to the ground. That was when a crazy idea occurred to me, but in the elation of the moment all I could think was "Why not?" So before my sane side could object, I took one hand off the spear and whipped around in a 180-degree motion to face the other Ares soldier, the weapon swinging in a similar arc.

The spear erupted into a fresh torrent of blue flame as I turned, which screamed out behind it in a blurred comet tail. The muscle-bound brute never even saw it coming.

After the second heavy thud had subsided, silence fell abruptly. I gradually became aware of little noises around me, like crickets, the far-off clash of swords, and the gusting of wind in the pines.

I could hardly believe the sight that surrounded me – two unconscious Ares-cabin soldiers, surrounded by a chaotic mess of footprints and churned-up earth, a crumpled flag discarded next to them. And I had done all this. I, Jason Williams.

My breath coming in shuddering gasps and my knees shaking, I held my new spear out at arm's length and stared at it in awe. "_Dang_," I muttered.

While the moment did deserve some appreciation and reflection, I'd had the distinct impression that the Ares guys would be rather dissatisfied with my actions when they awoke. Therefore, I grabbed the red team's flag in my free hand (with both a flagpole and a spear, I felt like an idiot and probably looked like a skier out of season), checked to make sure the Apollo flag carrier was all right (he seemed to be coming around), and made good my escape.

* * *

I stuck to the edges of the forest as best I could, not wanting to attract any unwanted attention, and skirted well around the huge brawl in the center, remembering Annabeth's advice. Things were pretty quiet for a while, and I almost began to think I might get away with this escapade, when suddenly a camper charged right at me, his or her helmet crest in flames.

Due to that unfortunate situation I couldn't tell if the charred horsehair plume had been red or blue. "Uh, friend or foe?" I called nervously, wondering if it even mattered when the poor sap was on fire.

I heard a surprised "_Jason?_" as the camper collapsed weakly to the ground and wrenched the helmet off, revealing herself to be my sister Alexis. She looked pretty battered, but apparently wasn't too concerned about her own condition, as she was staring at me in shock.

"What the … Where on Earth, Olympus, or Hades did you get that spear?" Alexis typically seemed to be in complete control of her life and just about everything else, but right now she sounded absolutely freaked out. I was reminded of myself and Biagio on our trip to camp—Alexis had the same look, like the metaphorical rug had been pulled out from under her and she had no idea what would happen next.

"Long story, but, um, Athena gave it to me," I mumbled. "Look, are you in good enough shape to take the flag? You can probably get it to our base better than I can."

You might well be thinking_, A true hero would've refused all aid and gotten the flag to base himself_, but I was being honest with myself here. I might have been able to defend myself against two Ares soldiers before, but I'd had the element of surprise on my side then. Now I was getting increasingly exhausted, and I had a feeling that the route back to the blue base would be utter chaos. I wouldn't last five minutes.

Alexis' eyes had gone wide when I'd mentioned our mother, but now they narrowed grimly as she accepted the flag. "You're going to explain everything after this," she informed me, then seemed to relent somewhat and gave me an excited, conspiratorial smile. "Hey, great job, Jason. I think we just might be able to win this."

She jammed her still-smoking helmet back on and dashed away. I, now feeling pretty good about myself, started to follow, supposing that I'd return just in time to see the victory celebrations begin. But unfortunately, the next thing I heard was a war cry.

I froze, my spine tingling in anticipation, and stared back the way I'd come – a deceptively peaceful-looing trail illuminated by the odd firefly and dusted with fallen pine needles. The red team was after us, I knew instantly. Either they'd found the two demigods I'd defeated, or I'd been seen with the flag.

With a flat, accepting dread a few levels lower than mere panic, I realized that it would probably be up to me to buy Alexis the time she needed. I needed to think creatively, and I needed to do so fast.

I examined my new spear again. _It will respond directly to your thought_, Athena had told me. So, theoretically, if I thought of something …

I leveled the spear at the ground and concentrated. In a split second, a bolt of blue fire shot from the spear point to the forest floor, where it remained, moving in the breeze but seemingly not spreading.

I gritted my teeth and reflexively grabbed my helmeted forehead, feeling the beginnings of a ferocious headache coming on. Well, I supposed no one ever said that affecting the physical world with my thoughts was going to be a completely free lunch.

But the sounds of pounding footsteps and shouted instructions were getting louder rapidly, clearly headed this way. One blob of flame-like stuff wasn't going to cut it. More; I needed more!

I had no idea how this would work since the spear was no longer directly involved, but I stared at the little blue-green bonfire and imagined it growing, spreading, fanning into a massive thoughtblaze. And excruciatingly, bit by bit, my desire started to become reality. I was fighting for every inch, but it was working.

It sounded like my pursuers had run into trouble of some kind, so fortunately I had enough time to do the real work and get into a nice theatric pose as they approached. This had the happy effect of making me seem way more awesome than I actually was at the time. Specifically, here's what the detachment of Red Team soldiers must've seen:

They know precisely where the flag is, and they're hot on its heels (well, flags don't have heels, but you should get the general idea). But that's when they notice a weird light ahead. Drawing nearer, they see a rippling, shimmering, four-or-five-foot wall of blue energy, stretched between two mighty trees, somewhere between flame and pure light. Ensconced safely behind that wall is an intimidating figure (work with me here!) clutching a spear.

"Back off," I shouted in my best action-hero impression, and wondered why it came out sounding more like "Please spare me." To drive my point home, I brandished the spear as threateningly as I could manage.

In yet another instance of that charming klutziness so evident in everything I do, my elbow hit the top of my makeshift barrier, giving me a taste of what my foes would be in for. It didn't really burn, but there was a sharp jolt that left my whole arm feeling oddly fizzy for a moment. Kind of like a stun gun, I imagine.

Although that totally blew my chances of intimidating the Red Team envoys, it did at least show them the effects of the thoughtfire, and most of them stopped short to look for a way around.

But apparently, there's one of _those guys_ in every small group of demigods. The most heavily-armed figure in the bunch took in the situation for all of three seconds, then charged me, snarling like a mountain lion with a mouth full of Novocain. (I know, right? I was pretty impressed by that noise myself.)

He really managed a very impressive leap and nearly cleared the wall of thoughtfire (I'm starting to like that word), but his leg smacked full into the thing before he landed. I wouldn't have believed it if I hadn't seen it, but this somehow flipped him backwards into the air, reversing his momentum and sending the unlucky guy back down into the dirt in front of his companions.

As if on cue, the barrier sputtered away into nothing, but the band of Reds seemed hesitant to try another attack. After all, I realized, they didn't know how I'd created the thing in the first place, or whether or not I could do so again.

Also, as I took a closer look at them, I noticed that the majority looked substantially the worse for wear. I remembered Annabeth saying that the Hephaestus cabin had set traps nearly everywhere, and it looked like quite a few had done their job. One guy's breastplate had a huge, circular scorch mark on it, another had his hands partially entangled in some sort of net, and a third was covered in a substance that smelled a lot like maple syrup.

That still left four more Reds, though (the one who'd been blasted by the barrier was on his feet again), and some of them looked like they were more than willing to start up the fight again, but the one in front held up a hand and gave a command in Latin. I understood him: "_Manete_! Stay!"

In the pause that followed, I heard the cheers begin to echo out of the woods. It sounded a lot to my untrained ears like Alexis had succeeded. The Red soldiers looked at each other uncertainly, then back at their leader, who sighed and pulled off his helmet.

I did a double take. It was the other Jason—Jason Grace, son of Zeus, who I'd seen around camp a few times in the past week or two. He really did look quite a bit like me, or at least like I would've looked if I'd spent more time freshman year pumping iron than I did reading.

Our slightly rueful grins probably matched too, as he stepped forward to shake my hand. "Well, it looks like you got us this time," he admitted. "That is one heck of an impressive-looking spear! I'm sure that next time I'll…"

That was when another weighted net dropped out of the trees and crashed into the whole delegation, sending them sprawling to the ground. An interesting mix of Greek and Latin filled the air, none of it sounding terribly complimentary.

A short guy wearing a camouflage outfit and a tool belt, who I vaguely recognized as being part of the Hephaestus cabin, walked up to them with an insane-looking grin on his face. "I told you that you'd fall for one of my traps tonight, Jason!" he cackled (really, there was no other word to describe it). "Aw, yeah! What now, Thunder Boy?"

He turned and slapped me a high five, then dashed off for the blue base upon hearing an enraged "VALDEZ!" from the net. Apparently, knowing Flint and Biagio had prepared me for random situations like this somewhat, so I just shrugged apologetically at the other Jason and headed back out of the forest, following the continuing elated voices.

I didn't get too far, though, before being mobbed by a group of very excited demigods. It was so chaotic that I only heard snippets of what they were saying, such as "Alexis," "We totally showed them," "Two Ares soldiers," and "Awesome."

I felt a little unsteady, but at the same time I knew I wouldn't be able to stop grinning even if I tried. All things considered, I reflected, it had been a pretty awesome night indeed.

**Hello again from Maecenas, your faithful scribe! I write this author's note not knowing if anyone's going to actually read it. Despite the publication of two new chapters in this story recently, my readership seems to have fallen off a bit. I suppose that since the Riordan fandom is so massive, it's easy for a story to get buried…so, not that I'm begging, but if you're new, I'd love it if you could stop in for a read and review! **

**In any case, I am now on summer break, and as such will have a lot more time and energy for my writing efforts. Expect to see a lot more in this space coming up, including some exciting new plot developments (or two clichés and a bag of chips, depending on how well it's all pulled off :D), as well as the long-promised revamp of chapters one through four! I just finished writing a new scene for said revamp, and it should go live sometime in the next week or two.**

**Anyway, Jason has now met his immortal parent and been granted a powerful new weapon. So far he's prevailed, but he still has a lot to learn. What is the destiny he's been told of? And for that matter, what happened to a nunchucks-wielding Biagio, last seen somewhere on the Capture the Flag battlefield?**

**STAY TUNED…**

**Maecenas out.**


	8. May Takes an Unexpected Vacation

CHAPTER VIII: MAY TAKES AN UNEXPECTED VACATION

**Disclaimer: I don't own any of the works of Rick Riordan, or any certain DC Comics superheroes I may or may not mention…**

"So, basically," said Biagio d'Amore as he plummeted back down to earth from the rock-climbing wall, "You're a Green Lan – "

He never got to finish naming that particular band of superheroes, though, as by that time he had been suddenly reintroduced to the ground. What would otherwise have been a –"tern" became a grunt that I don't think anyone could've spelled, and only Biagio could've pronounced. It takes a lot more than that to deter Biagio, however, and in moments he was back on his feet, dusting off his usual tuxedo. "Am I right?"

It was a few days after the fateful Capture the Flag game. Presented with a mostly free afternoon, Biagio and I had been hanging out (sometimes quite literally) by Camp Half-Blood's signature climbing wall, which boasted "amenities" like lava flows, minor earthquakes and spikes that were probably poisonous. Oh, and there are two of them, and they have the occasional tendency to slam together like something out of a video game – one of those platformers where the game designers are really trying to kill you.

Ever since our shared journey to Camp Half-Blood, Biagio and I – who had only been casual acquaintances at school – were quickly becoming good friends. In part we'd been thrust together by circumstances (Manticores are an excellent bonding experience!), and he was also the only person at Camp (besides Flint, that is) who knew, sort of, what my life had been like before all this. But besides all that, he was certainly a funny and entertaining person to be around, and I was slowly catching glimpses of a good heart beneath the bizarre, flirty exterior.

Right now we were discussing what nearly everyone else at Camp Half-Blood seemed to be talking about: my new spear, which I'd decided to name Strix (Ancient Greek for _owl _) . Apparently, receiving a magic item directly from one's immortal parent wasn't completely unheard-of – Annabeth's Yankees cap was another example – but it was still a rare occurrence. Also, I gathered that it had been a long time since any Olympian (Mr. D excluded) had visited the camp in person.

"Not quite," I answered Biagio, idly wondering what the Ancient Greek for "No evil shall escape my sight" was. "But you're on the right track, at least – it does seem to be controlled with my thoughts. I'm still experimenting, but I did figure out that you can make the fire stuff actually burn if you concentrate and, uh, think fiery thoughts. And when I was fighting with it on Friday, it kind of helped out – like it was guiding my hand where it needed to go."

"And why were you so honored, is what I want to know?" Biagio grumbled, tackling the wall for yet another try. "Why didn't Aphrodite descend from the sky and give _me_ a superpowered magical weapon?"

I rolled my eyes. "You're larger than life already, Biagio – adding anything else to that would make you just plain dangerous. Besides, you were doing well enough with the nunchucks, weren't you?"

I'd decided not to mention any of Athena's warnings about my destiny just yet, mostly because I had no idea what they meant myself. For all of my banter, the idea was still making me uneasy – like knowing you were blindfolded on a roller coaster, certain that there was a huge drop coming up but not knowing when.

I'd been teasing Biagio about the nunchucks, and I was far from the first person to have done so. He'd more or less disappeared during the general chaos of the Capture the Flag game, but word of the hitting-himself-in-the-shoulder incident had spread quickly. Furthermore, despite the fact that the weather had gotten warmer, he was still resolutely wearing long sleeves – like there were more bruises he wasn't keen to show off.

"Maybe I should talk to the Hephaestus Cabin about forging me a cool sword," he mused, now about halfway up the climbing wall. "I think my awesomeness needs a conduit. WAAAARGH!"

That last bit was caused by a sudden spray of fire directly over Biagio's head that had flared up without warning. This was what had caused him to fall earlier, but now he somehow held on, swinging crazily away from the wall, and quickly scrambled up the last few feet to the top. "Ha! What do you think of_ that?_"

I raised an eyebrow. "Good luck getting back down."

Biagio bit his lip and mumbled something in Italian that I didn't quite hear.

* * *

For the most part, that day had been a lot like any other day at camp – sacrificing part of my breakfast to the gods, reading about the life of Theseus in the original Greek, trying to avoid the Hermes cabin's paintball trebuchet – but as it turned out, it was the last normal day before the roller coaster of my life took another sharp turn. Therefore, the whole thing stands out very clearly in my mind.

It all began at the canoe lake, shortly after Ashley Summers had capsized her head counselor, Will Solace, thoroughly on purpose. He'd been the victim of a direct hit from the Stoll Brothers of Hermes and their paintball weaponry earlier that afternoon, so he'd been liberally splattered with hot pink – until now. Personally I thought he should've been grateful – as the neon pink shade against his orange camp T-shirt had not been the best of looks – but he still seemed bent on revenge for his dunking and an oar war had broken out among the Apollo cabin's boats.

Our actual canoe lesson had concluded several minutes previously, so I was drifting lazily about twenty feet out from shore, watching the Apollo kids squabbling and the water glittering orange in the magnificent sunset. There was still a smoky taste in my mouth from barbeque night in the pavilion, and the promise of s'mores at the campfire later. A perfect day.

My eyes were idly following the progress of a large tailfin cutting through the water some distance away – one of the usual prowling sea serpents, I was guessing – and I caught sight of a strange silhouette out of the corner of my vision. Careful not to flip my boat over with a sudden movement (this time), I turned around and identified the sight: it was Chiron, who looked almost like an ordinary human riding a horse from that distance, standing on the shore of the lake.

I frowned slightly; this was unusual. Chiron taught archery, some sword fighting and advanced Greek, but as far as I knew, he had nothing to do with canoeing (this was understandable, as his second half meant he couldn't even get into a canoe in the first place.) Perhaps, I reasoned, he'd come to rein in the Apollo cabin's little argy-bargy – which did look like to was getting out of hand somewhat.

The relative calm of the lake was interrupted by the sound of the camp's conch-shell being blown (for the uninitiated, it sounds kind of like a bass guitar trying to yodel). Immediately all of the other canoeing campers stepped what they were doing and headed for shore. I followed, feeling a little nervous. Did this mean there was an emergency going on, or something? Had that fin been something more serious than I'd assumed?

Evidently, most of the other campers were wondering the same thing, and there were a lot of uncertain, muttered conversations as we all docked our canoes and stumbled back onto the sand. Chiron still hadn't said anything, but he was wearing his finest ominous expression. By now, the uncertainty of it all was making me truly nervous, and just about anything – like suddenly hearing my name – would've freaked me out entirely.

That didn't stop Chiron. "Jason Williams?"

I tried to stifle the fact that my heart was now pounding a mile a minute. "AGH … umm …yes?"

Our activities director the centaur didn't respond for a moment, but just stood where he was, gazing off towards the distant hills. The sunset light reflected in his eyes, making his expression pretty hard to gauge.

"Follow me to the Big House," he finally said. "I'm afraid I have much to explain."

* * *

The journey from the canoe lake to the Big House wasn't a very long one in theory, but with hundreds of possibilities and thoughts rushing through my head at a hundred miles an hour, each even worse that the last, it seemed to be taking an eternity.

A small group of demigods – from Aphrodite, mostly – were hanging around the volleyball courts and chatting, and several of them looked up in interest as Chiron and I passed by. One of them, I noticed, was Melanie, who shot me a concerned look and mouthed something. I'm no good at lip-reading, but all things considered I was pretty sure she was saying something along the lines of, _what's going on?_

It was good to know that somebody cared, and she'd asked the same question I kept coming back to myself, but Chiron was keeping up a pretty brisk pace and I was loath to be left behind. I gave Melanie an awkward shrug designed to be as apologetic as I could make it, inwardly promising that I'd try to explain later.

As we neared the Big House, I gradually became aware of a strange, insistent _creak creak creak_ noise that I couldn't identify. By the time I stepped onto the porch, though, I'd figured it out – the Big House's eagle-shaped weathervane was swiveling slowly back and forth in the wind. And that was another thing, come to think of it – up until then it had been a wonderfully warm evening without a trace of wind in the air, but now a chilly breeze had swept up. Perhaps it was nothing more than changing weather, but my spine tingled all the same. I hadn't felt this nervous since my arrival at Camp Half-Blood.

Still looking preoccupied, Chiron ushered me into the den – the same room where I'd met the other campers on my first day. Now, it was completely empty, or so I thought until a loud voice swearing in Ancient Greek suddenly broke the silence. This proved to be Mr. D – the first I'd seen of him in quite some time – playing a Donkey Kong arcade game in the corner.

Chiron cleared his throat. "Erm, Mr. D –"

The god of wine looked back at us innocently. "Oh, I'm sorry, Chiron. Did you need the den for something? I'd be the last Olympian to stand in your way."

He started slowly ambling out, clearly taking as long as he possibly could. "You know, Chiron, as reluctant as I was to return, even I must admit that mortal civilization does have its strong points. Like this game, for instance. _Di Immortales,_ it's almost as good as Pac-Man!"

That little soliloquy had brought him to the doorway. But before he left, he turned and shot me a look. Everyone seemed to be giving me significant glances lately, but Dionysus' was especially hard to read – not exactly angry, and not exactly expectant. Whatever he'd been trying to convey, it was beyond me to decipher.

Then he was gone, and Chiron was showing me to a comfortable leather chair and pouring lemonade. I took a glass and tried to wait patiently, but I was itching with anticipation; dying to find out why Chiron had summoned me here. I was reminded again of my journey to camp – Flint had dropped a lot of ominous hints before he'd finally explained about the Greek gods. Hopefully I'd get an explanation this time around too – eventually.

Chiron had returned to his wheelchair disguise and was now facing me across a coffee table, an intent expression on his face. "Flint told me the details of your and Mr. D'Amore's journey to camp. In some ways it was typical, but I'm afraid that one element continues to perplex me."

He looked at me like he was expecting me to figure out what he meant, but I couldn't think of anything (except Biagio falling out of the van, but that was more humiliating than perplexing.) "And, uh, what was that?" I ventured after a medium-sized awkward pause had gone by.

Chiron raised his eyebrows. "The attack of the Kindly One at your school, Jason. Such entities are more than ordinary monsters, who will hunt demigods out of malice and opportunism. The _Erinyes_ are the avengers of Hades, and long ago, at the Areopagus in Greece, they became general arbiters of justice. In short, they will not be loosed unless there is some wrong to be redressed."

I considered this, a tingly feeling of uneasiness gradually beginning to sweep through me. Flint had mentioned something similar – jokingly congratulating me for getting Hades mad at me – but I remained just as confused now as I had been back then. Was it possible that I'd done something seriously wrong without even being aware of it?

I took a long drink of lemonade, hoping that it might clarify my mind somehow, but no dice. "So, why was it, uh, pursuing Biagio and me?" I asked hesitantly, not at all sure I wanted to know the answer. "What did we do?"

Chiron scratched his beard, squinting at me thoughtfully. "I must confess that I'm not sure, but the fact that you were granted a weapon by your immortal parent shortly afterward is suggestive. Taken together, these two events seem to point to your being at the center of something truly momentous – and I could think of a few candidates for such a role," he added darkly.

I gulped, and apparently my face looked pretty stricken after the dripping-with-doom conversation, for Chiron's tone suddenly became far more nonchalant. "For now, enough said about the matter. I will inform you immediately if I learn anything definite. My primary purpose in summoning you here for this conversation was something else altogether."

He grinned suddenly, which sort of surprised me – up until then, he'd always struck me as an extremely serious kind of person. Now, though, he looked almost mischievous.

"Your performance in last Friday's Capture the Flag game caught my attention," he told me. "The gods have a need, and I believe that you are the hero for the job. The quest is yours, if you will accept it."

I blinked, wondering if I'd missed something, but I suspected it was just the usual case of Chiron being two steps ahead of me. "A quest … for what?"

Chiron checked his watch, like it was going to be a long story. "Ah, yes – the details. Please, follow me."

He didn't bother to return to centaur form, but instead wheeled briskly out of the den. I quickly gulped the rest of my lemonade before following.

* * *

"What do you know," Chiron asked me, "about the great war between the gods and the Titans?"

For some reason, we'd only gone as far as the Big House's wraparound porch. Chiron was leaning against the railing and gazing up into the twilight sky, so I couldn't see his face very well. This made it even more difficult to tell what he was thinking, so I gave up trying and concentrated on his question.

Fortunately, I'd been kind of a Greek mythology geek even before my journey to Camp Half-Blood, - I wonder now if the gods gave me that tendency just for times like this – and I remembered something or other about the Titans. "That was, um, the war of the gods – led by Zeus – against the Titans, right?" I recalled hesitantly. "Kronos was Zeus' father and tried to destroy the gods by swallowing them, but Zeus escaped and set the rest of the gods free. Then there was a war, and the Olympians took over the world from the Titans."

Chiron nodded. "A commendable summary, but my question concerned more recent events as well. After Zeus conquered his father Kronos, he sliced him into pieces with his own scythe and cast him into the blackest pits of Tartarus in the underworld, But Titans are immortal just a gods are, and last summer Kronos gathered the strength to return to life and wage war on Olympus again."

I frowned in confusion. Sure, maybe the world of gods, monsters, and heroes could go unnoticed by mortals most of the time, but a full-scale war between gods and Titans? There was no way everyone could miss that.

Or had they? I asked myself, suddenly remembering the catastrophic storm system last year that had been all over the news – the one that had done so much damage in Manhattan.

Right around here, actually …

My mouth had suddenly gone dry. "What happened?" The thought of such powerful and dangerous entities at war in America was sobering – there were just so many ways for things to go disastrously wrong.

Chiron turned back towards me with a wry grin. "Well, as you might have guessed by the fact that we're still here, we achieved victory, albeit at a cost. The Olympians sent the dread monster Typhon back to Tartarus, Percy Jackson and an army of satyrs imprisoned Hyperion in a tree in Central Park, and a son of Hermes named Luke Castellan" – a shadow visibly descended across Chiron's features – "sacrificed himself to destroy Kronos again.

"It was a momentous episode in the gods' history," he continued, "But fortunately it is all in the past now. There is just one specific facet of last summer's evens that pertains to your quest.

"There were four Titans who corresponded to the cardinal directions," Chiron told me. "Hyperion, for instance, was lord of the east. And Krios, the lord of the south, was set to guard Mount Orthrys, the Titan's palace near San Francisco. But a valiant group of demigods, led by none other than Jason Grace, slew Krios and returned Orthrys to ruins."

Chiron leaned back in his wheelchair, seemingly done with his speech, and looked at me thoughtfully. I uneasily began to remember the dreams I'd been having, filled with menacing giants. Krios … Hyperion … who had they been? I wasn't entirely certain yet, but a nervous feeling was slowly overtaking me the more I thought about it, like I was on the track of something vastly important.

Yet again, Chiron seemed to be waiting for me to ask a question. I was still pretty confused, so I wasted no time. "So … what is my quest?"

Chiron glanced up at the sky, which was rapidly darkening as the last traces of the sunset vanished. "Look at the sky, Jason, and tell me what you notice."

Silence fell, apart from the occasional noise of a moth hitting the porch lights, as I stared into the wild blue yonder. At first glance it looked like a typical evening sky, but something felt wrong.

It seemed trivial enough when I noticed it – nothing to get too excited about – but when I voiced my conclusion, I heard my voice tremble a little. "I don't see any stars … "

Chiron nodded gravely. "I noticed this a few days ago and, sadly, I am now certain that it is no quirk of the weather. Krios is lord of constellations as well as of the south, so if the stars have disappeared, or are shielded from our sight … it must be his work."

My dream from a few weeks before flooded back into my head: an enormous figure escaping from some sort of cave, brandishing its fists in triumph_. I might have known that the ignominy of death couldn't hold me for long!_ And he'd been killed by Jason Grace – the guy everyone said looked a lot like me. He was going to want revenge, wasn't he? And if I was the one he found...

I struggled to keep the panic out of my tone. "So … how can Krios be alive again? Didn't it take Kronos, like, a thousand years after the first Titan war?"

Chiron grimaced. "Ah, yes … I wondered when we would draw near to that subject. I am afraid that much of this knowledge is strictly off-limits to regular campers, but …" he sighed. "Sending you out into the world without a few key details would be ludicrously dangerous.

"In summary, though the Titans were defeated and Olympus preserved, that was not – is not – the end of the story. Our oracle has issued a second Great Prophecy, the events of which are in motion even now. The prophecy makes reference to the Doors of Death."

The combination of furniture and death was an unsettling one – if the doors themselves were "of death," then what the heck was behind them, the Shag Carpeting of Eternal Pain?

Chiron, apparently reading my confusion, hastened to explain. "The Doors are an illicit entrance to the Underworld created by our enemies," he told me. "Through them, the worst monsters and villainous mortals of Ancient Greece have escaped back into the world. Apparently, their pull is strong enough to wrench a Titan from Tartarus, as well."

I sighed, feeling more than a little overwhelmed, and tried to sort through the massive overload of information I'd been given. "Right … so, the Doors of Death, through which the titan Krios has escaped, he's done something or other to the stars, and I have to find him," I reeled off. Oh, great, I added silently.

Chiron nodded encouragingly, seemingly pleased that I'd figured it all out. "You will leave bearing a flag of truce, trying to ascertain Krios' motivations, but go armed," he said briskly. "I would recommend traveling south. You are allowed to choose two other demigods as companions on your quest. I'll contact the Oracle at Delphi about a prophecy tomorrow morning."

He stood up extensively until he was a proper centaur again, his curly hair nearly brushing the porch's bug zappers. "And now, that will be all," he informed me. "I suggest you head to the campfire – I am told that the Magical Flames will be in optimal condition for toasting marshmallows tonight." And with that, he was gone.

I headed towards the campfire as well, but stopped at the edge of the porch. Ahead of me I could see only the occasional patch of ground lit up by the torches, and could only hear the rushing of the wind in the trees. Above me, thanks to the absence of the stars, was a dark, seemingly never-ending void.

But as minimal as my surroundings may have been, everything Chiron had just told me had made the darkened camp come unsettlingly to life. The distant silhouettes of trees started to resemble monstrous figures reaching out towards me, and the crashing of the waves in Long island Sound became the booming laughter that echoed through my dreams. And here I was, about to leave the safety of camp into a world that I now knew was filled with the very things I was imagining.

A cold sweat prickled on the back of my neck as I set off for the campfire. A few toasted marshmallows sounded good – in circumstances like these, I was going to need all the sugar I could get.

* * *

A few hours later, I was slumped in the Athena cabin library's most comfortable chair, surrounded by a stack of books on quests and Titans and other things I hoped would be useful. My eyes were starting to burn from lack of sleep, but I kept reminding myself how important this was. I didn't want to miss a thing – what if I got eaten by a monster because I'd been too sleepy to look up how to kill it?

I hadn't even had time to tell my cabin mates about the quest before they started bombarding me with questions about it. At Camp Half-Blood, news travels on wings – Hermes' winged messenger shoes, to be specific; sometimes literally. I'd been a little surprised that all of my half-siblings knew about the whole thing already, but I supposed it made sense: demigod spends half an hour in a private meeting with Chiron, returns looking like rug has been pulled out from under him. There weren't too many alternate explanations.

According to Annabeth, having to confront a Titan wasn't too unusual, even for a first-year camper. Apparently, back when she was twelve, she, Percy Jackson and Grover the satyr had traveled to the Underworld to retrieve Zeus' lightning and prevent World War III from breaking out. That had made me feel a little better – at least I knew now that such monumental feats were possible – but then again, I wasn't nearly as smart or competent as Annabeth.

Speaking of siblings, my half-sister Alexis is a saint. When she'd learned that I intended to borrow her usual late-night reading spot to research for my quest, she'd insisted on staying up and helping me. She'd been fighting to stay awake even harder that I had, and I was really touched that she would go so far out of her way to help me.

My eyes grew even blearier as I continued to read. Kronos chopped up Ouranos, Zeus sliced and diced Kronos, the giants tried to kill Zeus and the Olympians but failed miserably … it was all one big cycle, and right now it was more than my frazzled brain could handle. Maybe it was time I got some sleep after all…

_Boom. Boom. Boom._ It was virtually midnight, but someone was hammering at the door. Fear twisted my insides – who was trying to get in?

Alexis sat bolt upright, peeling her face off of Hesiod's _Theogony_. "What's going on?"

She was only a second ahead of the rest of the cabin. There was an abrupt chorus of surprised, awakened voices – "Attack! "Di Immortales!" "Eucalyptus!" and so on – and everyone leapt out of their bunk beds onto the floor.

By the time all of the commotion had subsided, we noticed that the door had been opened. In the doorway stood Chiron, looking as grim as I had ever seen him. Behind the centaur, a flurry of snow blew into the cabin.

_Waitaminute_ – a flurry of snow? This was the middle of May! What on earth was happening?

"Jason Williams," Chiron intoned, "I'm sorry to bother you again, but I must speak with you." Our activities director could be cheerful, he could be wry, he could be ominous, but I'd never seen him look frightened … until now. "I'm afraid," he said, "that things are going to be far more dangerous than I'd imagined."

* * *

**Welcome back (assuming someone is actually reading this!) from Maecenas! This is, no doubt, the moment you 've all been waiting for. Introductions to the world of gods, monsters and heroes are all well and good, but now that those are done, the adventure is going to kick into high gear. As a matter of fact, assuming I can remember how it works, I will put a poll on my profile taking your guesses about who his two companions will be. I welcome any and all speculation!**

**So, now you know the specifics of Jason's quest. "But," you might say, "This story takes place several months after The Lost Hero! Aren't all of the Titans back in Tartarus where they belong, and the Gigantomachy, led by Gaia, now the pre-eminent threat to half-bloods everywhere? Why would they want to bring a Titan back through the Doors of Death?" Assuming you actually did wonder that, great question. Let's just say that that has more than a little to do with why Chiron is so worried now…**

**Along with the publication of this chapter, I have some further good news to report. I've long made promises about revised and updated editions of the first four chapters of this story (which were written pre-Lost Hero); now they're a reality! A slightly altered Chapter One will be published along with this chapter, but it's Chapter Two where the edits start to get notable (the manticore attack I mentioned before). I warn you now!**

**So, please stick with this story, for there are great things on the horizon!**

**Maecenas out.**


	9. We Get Ready to Rumble

I followed Chiron back across the commons, headed for the Big House. Just about the only thing I could see was the lantern the centaur was carrying – the torches had been snuffed out for the night, and of course the stars were still gone. But despite the darkness surrounding me, there was still just enough light for me to see my breath freezing in the air.

Nope, I definitely hadn't been imagining that flurry of snow I mentioned before. Now that I was outdoors in the middle of it all, it felt more like I'd imagined the warmth and security of Cabin Six. I could hear frost crunching under my feet with every step I took, and beneath my flimsy camp T-shirt and shorts, I was shuddering with cold.

My numb, sleep-deprived brain was utterly failing to understand whatever was happening. Here it was, May eighth, in the middle of an unusually warm spring, but all of a sudden it felt like December. And why was Chiron calling me back to the Big House? That must mean that all of this was related to my quest – but how?

Compared to the suddenly bitter outdoors, the light and warmth of the Big House felt like another world. This time, Chiron steered me right past the den into his own office. As I settled into a comfortable chair, he promised me that he would be right back and cantered off down the hallway. This seemed kind of odd to me – considering that he'd practically knocked down the door of my cabin in the dead of night and had brought me here urgently, speaking of great danger. You'd think that our meeting would be pretty high on his list of priorities, right? I almost wondered if he was just giving me time to wake up and compose myself – which I needed – but then again, I wasn't too sure of _anything_ at the moment.

Chiron's office was shiny metal from wall to wall, probably Celestial bronze like the tip of my spear, Strix. This would've rendered it just as blinding as the golden Apollo Cabin, but the room was so heavily decorated that only the occasional glint showed through the clutter.

There were several T-shirts hanging on the wall, all of them seemingly commemorating various "Party Ponies" conventions at different dates and places. Nearby was a poster-sized photo of a group of centaurs arm-in-arm. The majority looked like World Cup fans I'd seen on TV – face paint, colored afros, and oversized sunglasses. Chiron was at the end of the line, dressed like a college professor as usual and smiling so it looked more like a wince.

On the adjoining wall was a row of records and sleeves, all featuring classics like Dean Martin, Frank Sinatra, and Elvis. My eyebrows shot up when I noticed a copy of the Beatles' _Abbey Road_ album with no less than four signatures on it.

Once I'd torn my eyes away from the golden oldies, though, my attention was held by the most common decoration in the room: hundreds of photographs of demigods, clearly previous residents of Camp Half-Blood. There were photos on all four walls, their glossy surfaces reflecting the light even more than the bronze did.

The oldest were so blurred and faded that they could've dated back to the invention of photography. Among the most recent, I saw a few current camp residents – Annabeth, for one, together with a dark-haired, confident-looking guy I concluded was Percy Jackson. The other Jason was there, too, staring regally into the camera, next to two other photos – his psycho friend Leo Valdez, son of Hephaestus, and a pretty girl I vaguely recognized as Piper McLean, head counselor for Aphrodite.

Staring at them all, I wondered how many heroes had paced this office before me, waiting for Chiron to deliver dire news and wondering desperately if they'd survive the first thirty minutes of their quests. It was nice knowing I wasn't alone, but then again, I would hate to be the one who finally messed up the tradition. Dionysus would probably end up smiting my photo for target practice.

When Chiron returned after a few minutes, I was staring intently at one of the pictures about halfway up the wall. It didn't' seem much different from the others, but something had drawn me to it. Perhaps I was still half-dreaming, but it seemed like it was important somehow.

The photo showed a group of three, standing in the middle of the commons on an exceptionally sunny day – on the far right was a strikingly beautiful African-American girl, who seemed to be almost as tall as Biagio, and who was wearing a camouflage jacket and jeans. Somehow, the casual outfit looked extremely elegant on her. On the far left was another, far shorter girl with wildly curly wheat-colored hair and green eyes, who had a huge backpack slung across her shoulders. And the guy in between them had bright red hair, enough freckles for two people, and a look in his eyes that reminded me of Flint Greenbaum or Leo Valdez – the kind of look that said he was probably planning something crazy. All three had huge grins on their faces, like they'd been laughing hysterically a second before the picture was taken.

I hadn't heard Chiron approaching, abut now he spoke up from the doorway. "As you can see, Jason," he told me, "I have trained many, many heroes over the years. From the old days of your namesake, Jason captain of the _Argo_, up to the present day, I have been a constant presence, guiding and encouraging."

He wheeled over to his desk and settled himself into place, while I returned to my chair. "Throughout countless centuries, I have been able to advise demigods based on the lives and deeds of their predecessors," the centaur continued. "And therefore, in some ways, my immortality has proved to be my greatest strength. Cycles and patterns are everywhere in this world of ours, Jason. History repeats itself, and I am here to remember, guiding and warning half-bloods to echo past successes and avert old failures." Then he frowned. **"UNTIL NOW …"**

"Oh, great," I mumbled, feeling like my blood had frozen. Unfortunately, Chiron had a tremendous gift for theatrics, and he could make me feel this nervous seemingly without effort. "Um, what changed?"

Though he no longer looked as nervous as he had been when he summoned me to the Big House, Chiron was clearly still shaken. "Well now, I'm afraid that's where I'm uncertain. Certainly, you've arrived at camp in the midst of…interesting times. I will simply have to tell you all I know and see if you can make more sense of it than I can."

Chiron reached behind his desk and clicked a button on his boom box. Muted Italian opera filled the air, and the centaur looked at me intently. "During our last meeting, I spoke of the Second Great Prophecy."

"The one about the Doors of Death," I remembered.

He nodded. "In circumstances like these, I may as well be candid. The gods are now threatened by an army of giants – the same monstrosities that challenged Olympus' rule in ancient times. The giants aim to awaken Gaea, the First Goddess, and plunge Western civilization into chaos."

Memories stirred in the back of my mind. I remembered the twin giants I'd encountered years ago in Philadelphia, and Annabaeth asking me if I recognized the name Gaea. "Okay. So Krios joined them, or something?"

Chiron gazed thoughtfully into the distance, not that there was all that much "distance" in the small office. "That's what I'm not sure about. Somehow, Krios' appearance doesn't seem to fit in with the pattern of the Prophecy, which could be cause for concern. An isolated Titan reappearing after his brethren have been defeated…" Chiron shook his head, looking mystified. "At any rate, I doubt that he is acting alone. Like most Titans, the Lord of the South is well-known as a proud and impulsive being. But if some unknown ally suggested a plan of action to him..."

I finally couldn't stand it anymore. I try to be a patient person, but curiosity had been burning away at me ever since Chiron had called me to his office. And when Chiron explains something, he has a tendency to take the long route.

"Listen," I spoke up, "sorry, but I have to know what's going on. Why is it snowing outside all of a sudden?"

Chiron sighed. "As it would happen, Khione the snow-goddess has allied herself with the giants. Initially I assumed that she had caused this, or perhaps that one of the wind gods had betrayed Olympus – until I received word from Olympus half an hour ago."

Behind Chiron, a loud baritone wail issued from the boom box; clearly, someone in the opera was pretty upset. The singer held the note longer than I would've thought possible, but finally his lungs failed him and Chiron delivered the news that was about to change my life.

"I'm afraid," he said, "That Krios has kidnapped the goddess Persephone."

* * *

Whenever I recall that moment now, I always wonder why I wasn't utterly terrified.

I mean, seriously. Pause, if you will, to consider the situation. Here I'd just been told that an army of giants was preparing to attack the gods, and that the Titan _I_ had to deal with was powerful enough to steal a mighty Olympian away. That's not exactly reassuring news, is it?

But apparently these things take a while to sink in. It's all very well to talk about giant, malevolent Titans, but if you've only seen such a being in a dream, the danger just doesn't feel real at first. So, at the moment, I was more confused than anything.

"Kidnapped … Persephone?" I mumbled. Chiron nodded grimly.

I cast my mind back to the Greek myths I remembered. I knew that Persephone – although I'd had no idea how to pronounce her name until now – had been a happy, carefree goddess of flowers and nature, the daughter of Demeter. But then … h'm … oh, yeah! Hades had taken a fancy to her and stolen her, down into the Underworld to be his bride.

"But – didn't that already happen?" I asked Chiron, puzzled. "A long time ago?"

He nodded in pleased acknowledgement, as though I'd just gotten an answer right in class. "You're thinking of the original myth of Hades and Persephone, are you not? Ironically, she has now been kidnapped _from _Hades. As you might remember, Persephone visits her mother during the summer months. With the Doors of Death open – " he shoved a hand away from his chest, his fingers curled like claws, in a sign I'd seen campers make before – "and what with this being the end of spring, it must have been easy to abduct her as she left her husband's realm for the world above."

I digested this new information, wondering how it would affect my quest. While it certainly wasn't good news, Krios hadn't seemed anything like _harmless_ in my dreams. So I supposed I should have expected something like this to happen sooner or later.

"So…I guess we're on a rescue mission now?" I hazarded after a while.

I hadn't been expecting Chiron's reaction. He actually gasped, a shocked expression on his face, as though this was the very last thing he'd expected me to say.

"_Di Immortales_, Jason!" he exclaimed, a hint of reproach in his tone. "I would have thought you'd realize how much more dangerous this makes the situation. In her grief at the loss of her daughter, Demeter has allowed the world to fall into winter, just as she does during Persephone's time with Hades in the second half of every year. This winter will be far harsher, however, and crops around the world will be in danger if Persephone is not recovered."

I was going to speak up, again, but Chiron cut me off. "While the effects of Persephone's abduction on the mortal world will be severe," he continued, sounding more agitated by the second, "they will be nothing compared to the repercussions on Olympus. Zeus has been mistrustful of heroes lately. As you may have heard, Queen Hera was kidnapped by Gaea and the giants last winter, and I had hoped that her rescue by Jason, Piper, and Leo would persuade him to change his mind. But a _second_ such incident" – he shuddered – "could throw off the balance of the Olympians entirely. And with her daughter gone, Demeter will be in no mood to act her usual role as peacemaker. There could be chaos, recriminations, the taking of sides – and all at the worst possible time."

I fidgeted in my chair. Now things were starting to sink in. Not only would I be in extreme danger on this quest myself, apparently there was going to be a lot riding on my actions, and I'd have to do the whole thing without messing anything up. And that was a shame, because messing things up is kind of my specialty.

That mindset – terrified, but resigned to what I'd have to face – was what made Chiron's next words so surprising.

"And so," he told me with a sigh, "that is why I am releasing you from your quest."

All I could come up with was a very stunned "WHAT?"

The centaur nodded sadly. "When you agreed to track Krios down earlier, neither of us had any idea how much danger would be involved. I won't ask you to face something you aren't prepared for. Some of our senior campers can take the quest in your absence."

For all of half a second, that sounded like an immense relief. The whole drastic situation could just seemingly disappear, no longer my problem. Someone else could be sent to defuse the situation, and I'd just stay at camp, living my life like normal.

But then, with a feeling of dread settling unnervingly in my stomach, I somehow understood that that wouldn't be possible. I want to point out that I was not being "heroic" or anything similar – it was like it was just in my DNA not to accept the easy way out, as clear a fact as "My name is Jason Williams" or "Last spring, Biagio somehow managed to get four prom dates for one prom."

"Um, thanks," I told Chiron, wondering how I was going to make my position clear, "but I don't think I can just…not do this, all of a sudden. I already agreed to take the quest, and it would, like, feel_ wrong_ to just walk away. You can send anyone you want who's actually competent along with me, but …" my voice trailed off. I couldn't really express the way it seemed obvious to me that I_ had_ to do this quest.

But somehow there was an understanding look in the old centaur's eyes, like he'd seen this happen before. "Well spoken," he told me. "Most heroes would feel the same way. Very well, if you are resolved, the quest is still yours."

All right, I'll admit that my first thought was _what have I done?_ But I wasn't about to take my words back _now_.

"I take it you know who you'll be choosing to accompany you on the quest?" Chiron asked me. "Strong and trustworthy allies are going to be essential if you're to succeed."

I nodded uncertainly. "I think I have a pretty good idea, actually."

Behind Chiron, the opera song suddenly ended. He stroked his beard in a thoughtful way. "My final piece of advice," he said after a while, "is to trust your instincts. Frequently, children of Athena rely on logic and planning alone, but a hero's heart will often lead him well, even if his reason fails."

Clearly, our conversation was over. As I stood, I was suddenly amazed how long I'd managed to stay awake – my mind was utterly scrambled, and I felt like if I tried to say anything more, it would just be exhausted gibberish.

But as I stumbled out of the cluttered office, Titans and goddesses chasing each other through my brain, my eyes fell on the photo I'd seen on my way in, the grinning trio of half-bloods. I wasn't sure how, but the snapshot still felt important.

_Trust your instincts,_ Chiron had said. Well, I mused, perhaps this was a good place to start.

"Um. Who are these three?" I asked him, pointing to the photo.

Chiron wheeled his way over to that particular wall and squinted at the trio in the picture. "Oh, yes," he said slowly, and I somehow got the feeling that he was wishing I hadn't asked. "Hannah, Jamie, and Selene were their names. They lived at camp in the late 1990's, and this photo was taken just before they left on a quest."

Somehow, that wasn't enough for my curiosity. "And?" I prompted, despite the feeling I was getting that Chiron didn't want to say any more.

His next words made it clear why I'd gotten that impression. "I'm afraid," he sighed, "that they were never heard from again."

* * *

I left the Big House on that happy note, quite certain that I wasn't going to be able to sleep for a second. Fortunately, though, by the time I returned to Cabin Six, the many late hours I'd spent studying for my upcoming quest were beginning to take their toll. Suddenly seeming to need tremendous amounts of energy just to stay on my feet, I stumbled through the door and crashed down onto my bunk. That was the last thing I would remember for what felt like just about forever.

By the time I slowly drifted back to consciousness the next morning, I'd forgotten all about Chiron's grim midnight warnings, and the seemingly impossible quest I was facing. For a few delicious seconds it was just another day at camp, and I was wondering only about ordinary things, like whether the pegasi would be available for flying, and whether I'd see Melanie Adams that morning.

The name stirred up a vague uneasiness from the depths of my brain. I'd promised Melanie something yesterday, hadn't I? I'd promised to explain about…

"Oh, _gods,_" I mumbled as everything came crashing back, like a waterfall of memories. Although Cabin Six was as crowded as usual, I suddenly felt immensely alone. I was leaving it all behind _today. _I was heading out into America, a defenseless geek of a teenager without so much as a driver's license, to track down a homicidal, goddess-kidnapping Titan. The whole idea of "adventure," I had to admit, wasn't looking quite as exciting up close. There was tragedy ahead, I could just tell, and as likely as not, it had my name on it.

For a second or two, tears of shock and fear stung at the corners of my eyes, but I blinked them away furiously. Now was _not _the best of times to be emotionally unstable, after all; I'd need to have my wits about me now more than ever before.

That conviction was just strong enough to get me to change clothes rapidly, grab Strix and head outside. The first thing I'd have to do would be to get two companions for my quest. I hadn't just been bluffing when I'd told Chiron that I knew who I was choosing—I was following an impulse as he'd recommended, but nonetheless, I had a feeling that my decision was sound.

I certainly _hoped _it was, at least. All things considered, I had decided that it would be best if I came back from this quest alive.

The camp was filled with demigods wandering around aimlessly, trying to make sense of the sudden, violent change in the weather. Only now, in full daylight, could I see how extensive the curse of Demeter had been. Everywhere I looked, the grass was silvery with frost—even close to ten in the morning—and many of the pine trees in the forest had already turned rusty orange.

And as for the deciduous trees, forget _that_—they were all skeletons coated in shriveled brown leaves, without a hint of green visible anywhere.

As I watched, a pair of grim-looking Apollo campers emerged from the woods, carrying a stretcher between them. On it was someone I had only seen in a dream before: Heather the dryad, Ashley's protector, who appeared to be deeply asleep, her face pale.

"Whatever happened last night, it was pretty tough on the nature spirits," the nearer Apollo guy informed me. "Dryads' life forces are tied to their trees, and with all the trees in such bad shape, well…" he shrugged helplessly. "They've mostly gone comatose like Heather here. We're doing what we can for them at the Big House."

I mumbled something indistinct but sympathetic and kept walking. The more I saw—the frozen ruins of the strawberry field, the giant pine tree on Half-Blood Hill with half of its needles missing, the thatched roof of the Demeter Cabin totally collapsed—the more terrible I felt. Maybe the state of the camp wasn't my fault, exactly, but it was my job to resolve the situation, which in a way meant it all came back to Jason Williams in the end. Talking about what had happened with Chiron had been one thing, but seeing the consequences for real was a thousand times worse.

I finally found Biagio on the shore of the lake—about the same spot where I'd shot myself with the arrow, actually. He was staring out over the water and standing extremely still, which was hardly typical for him, and he looked pretty gray, which was even more unusual for such a vibrant character.

Then again, he was blending in pretty well. A good deal of the environment was gray that day: the sky was clouded over, and was the general hue of frozen iron, and much the same could be said of the lake. I'd almost expected Biagio to stand out boldly from the drab surroundings, what with his golden tux and neon teeth and everything, but instead, it seemed that all of the color had been drained out of him, as well. It was really kind of depressing.

He listened patiently while I explained about the quest and—you guessed it—invited him along, but the more I kept talking, the more his frown deepened.

"Listen, Jason," he said eventually, with a lengthy sigh. "I know that I'm a pretty funny guy most of the time, and suave, and charismatic, and the life of the party, and…"

"But?" I supplied, guessing that he could go on in this vein for quite a while if I didn't cut him off.

"_But, _the _point _is that all of that's just a mask!" snapped Biagio. "I act all cool and confident because, well, that's who I am, it's what I do, but I can barely hold down a steady girlfriend, much _less _be a hero!"

The Italian was speaking in _italics. _I started to respond, but he cut me off with a wild gesture; clearly, he was on a roll now.

"You remember me falling out of the van on the way to camp, right? All I would do is slow you down." He paused momentarily, closing his eyes in exasperation. "Look, you know, I appreciate the bonds of friendship or whatever that made you ask me, but seriously, get someone who actually knows what they're doing."

This wasn't good. I hadn't been having recurring visions of Biagio for my health (and trust me, I see quite enough of him in my waking hours). All of my instincts were insisting that he was _meant _to be on this quest—some force might have brought us to camp together for that very reason. And here he was now, totally refusing.

"Look, _none _of us know what we're doing here," I shot back. "Don't forget, I'm a total geek who _shot himself in the eye _right here, not too long ago, and they chose me to _lead _the darn thing. I don't think being a hero just comes naturally to anyone here. All of your confidence, and, well…and everything else you mentioned are why we need you on this quest. You're the one who never lets anything get you down, no matter…" I'd been about to say "no matter how deranged your ideas are," but fortunately stopped myself—"no matter what happens. And without you on this quest, we probably _would _just give up before too long."

Biagio was silent for several moments, his face unreadable. I wondered if all I'd accomplished was getting him mad at me. He was acting so unlike the Biagio I knew that I really had no idea what I should be saying.

"Oh, all right," he said suddenly.

I grinned, a feeling of immense relief sweeping through me. "Seriously?"

Slowly but surely, he was starting to look like his old self again. "Well, I guess someone is going to have to tag along to save this thing from certain disaster. Titan kidnapped a goddess? No problem. He's going to wish he never met me. I'll go pack."

I shook his hand gratefully. "Well, I have no idea how this is going to turn out, but welcome aboard."

Biagio started to head back towards the cabins, then turned back, a sly expression on his face. "Wait a minute…if I remember correctly, you're allowed to take _three _people on a quest, and you kept using plural pronouns. May I ask who else is going to be joining us?"

I rolled my eyes; he'd picked up on that even more quickly than I'd expected. "Oh, I'll let you find out for yourself later—especially since once you do, you'll never let me hear the end of it anyway."

* * *

The final member of the quest was, at least, much easier to find than Biagio had been. After all, even with no sunlight to reflect off of it, it was pretty hard to miss the golden Apollo Cabin.

I quickly began to feel nervous as I slowly approached the cabin door. Asking Biagio to join me for the quest was one thing, but asking someone I barely even knew was definitely another. Remembering some of the comments Biagio had made on our first night at camp certainly wasn't helping, either.

_Well, it's not like this is romantic or anything, _I told myself. _You're just asking her to help you save the world from Krios and whoever he's working for. I mean, that's pretty platonic, right?_

In any case, I really didn't feel like I had any choice in the matter. I was still following that strange combination of instinct and the dreams I'd been having, but I was _certain _that if anyone but the three people I had in mind went on this quest, it would all end in disaster.

That was a cheery thought. All in all, it took a little more bravery than I'd been expecting just to take the final few steps and knock on the door.

Will Solace, wearing an obviously borrowed Camp Half-Blood T-shirt that was way too big for him (I guessed his own clothes were still drying), opened the door. "Oh, hey, Jason. How's your eye?"

"Fine," I told him, although I was no longer really concentrating on the conversation. I'd never seen the inside of the Apollo Cabin before, and there was a lot to process.

Thankfully, the whole interior wasn't gold like the outside—the walls were largely marble, with an impressive mosaic of the sun chariot covering the entire ceiling. I'd heard before that Apollo was the largest cabin at camp, and it was easy to see that was true—the place was as spacious as it was completely packed.

A tall, orange-haired guy seemed to be reciting a sonnet in one corner. On either side of his head were huge archery targets attached to the wall, and two other demigods were shooting at them, often forcing the poet to duck suddenly.

A cluster of small photographs was taped to the opposite wall—which reminded me of Chiron's office—but these depicted what looked like two suns in the sky over the New York skyline. Five or six campers were clustered around the display, having a fierce argument.

And in addition to all of the noise that the thirty-odd campers were making, there was music everywhere. Apparently, just because they were all children of the god of music didn't mean that the Apollo kids all had the same taste—there were MP3 players everywhere, blasting everything from Beethoven to Elvis to ZZ Top.

I felt like I would need a lifetime to take it all in, but I couldn't afford to waste too much time. Besides, I still had a massive swarm of butterflies in my stomach, and the clashing music was threatening to drive me totally insane.

"Um, is Ashley Summers around?" I asked Will, speaking quickly so I wouldn't lose my nerve. "I kind of need to talk to her."

To my surprise, he didn't immediately start trying to suppress laughter or shoot me "knowing" looks, but just answered my question as efficiently as possible (i.e. turning around and yelling "ASHLEY!").

A moment or two later, Ashley appeared from somewhere in the general chaos of the cabin. She looked kind of surprised to see me, but smiled and waved. "Hi, Jason. What's going on?"

I launched into the whole explanation again (I was getting a _lot _of practice at it), and rather awkwardly asked Ashley to join Biagio and me on the quest. For a while she didn't respond at all, but stared at the floor, clearly deep in thought.

"Go for it," Will advised enthusiastically. "It's a real honor for the cabin to have someone chosen for a quest, and you've been doing really well with archery and everything since you got here. Really, I'd be proud to have you representing us."

Ashley bit her lip, looking indecisive, then suddenly turned to me. "All right. If you're sure about this, I'll come along." She sounded like she was kind of surprised to hear herself saying it.

"Not that I'm not grateful to you for asking me along," Ashley told me some time later, as we were leaving the cabin, "but why me? I mean, sure, we kind of know each other, but it's not like I'm all that special or anything. You probably could've chosen…"

"I know," I interrupted, having heard this speech from Biagio already. "Don't ask me how, but it just kind of felt right, like an impulse I had that you had to be on this quest."

She gave me an intense look, her green eyes shining. "You, too? Seriously, I get feelings like that all the time." She smiled wryly. "I guess that's why I'm not too surprised about all of this happening—it's like I already knew it was coming."

We weren't going to be left pondering the complexities of fate any longer, though, as at this point a third voice unexpectedly broke in. "_Helloooo, _you two!"

I knew that Italian accent. Sure enough, it was Biagio, leaning against a basketball hoop only a few paces away. The son of Aphrodite looked subtly different than usual—there was a fancy shoulder bag slung over his left arm, and he looked just a little more serious than normal.

I was seriously starting to wonder if the guy just materialized whenever he felt that the universe had a need for his presence. "How did you even know I was here?" I demanded, feeling a little weirded out.

He gave me a truly infuriating "Older-and-wiser" kind of look. "Oh, Jason, subtlety is not among your gifts. So, it's to be the three of us on this quest, then? I'm honored, Ashley—Biagio d'Amore." He shook her hand, as suave as ever.

Ashley gave him a dubious look, possibly remembering his falling into the lake on our first night, but managed a "Yeah, great to meet you."

"I'm happy to say that I've prepared for this occasion," Biagio continued, in what almost sounded like a prepared speech. "Check this out!"

And with that, he reached for a scabbard at his belt that I somehow hadn't even noticed and drew a sword. "The Hephaestus cabin does good work, eh? I only asked them yesterday morning, and they get me something this totally wicked by the next afternoon!"

I had to admit, it was a very Biagio-like weapon. It couldn't just be your typical absurdly sharp Celestial bronze blade, no, that wasn't good enough. Naturally, it also had to be studded with opals, both in the hilt and carved to fit the base of the blade. The whole thing shone blindingly even in the weak sunlight, leaving a searing afterimage in front of my eyes.

Biagio sheathed the sword again, with a fancy flourish that almost relieved him of one of his ears. "I call it…_Heartbreaker,_" he announced in a ridiculous dramatic voice.

I rolled my eyes. "And you say _I'm _not subtle?"

I took a long look at him and Ashley: two phenomenally different personalities, but both of them had agreed to follow me out into the wilderness to hunt down a Titan. Saving Persephone was going to be up to the three of us, and somehow or other, I had to be the leader.

Rule no.1 of effective leadership: Don't let everyone else see how totally freaked out you really are. "Okay," I said, after taking an immensely deep breath. "We've got an Oracle to meet."

* * *

**Hi from Maecenas! Been a while.**

**I have a little explaining to do this time around. Despite the long time since I last updated a chapter, I was actually writing for the majority of my "absence." The catch was that I wasn't exactly sure where one chapter ended and the next began, so I just kept going, so I ended up writing three new chapters in a row. As such, I am now in an unprecedented position, one that needs capital letters for emphasis: YOU CAN NOW EXPECT A NEW CHAPTER IN ONE OR THE OTHER OF MY STORIES ON THE SATURDAY, EVERY SATURDAY, for at least the next four weeks. You may now rejoice, for one of the site's greatest procrastinators is actually starting a regular update schedule! We'll see how this goes…**

**Congrats to those who guessed Ashley and Biagio for the quest. I'll think of a new poll question to put up as soon as I can, but I'm not there yet. I would also congratulate those who guessed about Krios kidnapping Persephone, but that was no one. Oh, well, I suppose staying mysterious isn't too bad! The Khione reference was a guess at least one reader made as of the last chapter, and the flurry of snow was what we in the biz call a "Red Herring." Really, it was a symptom of a deeper problem: Winter everywhere. And trust me, that's only the beginning...**

**Tune in next Saturday for Romans, Romance, and Rachel Elizabeth Dare! The really fun part of this quest is starting to unfold.**

**Oh, and incidentally, a little challenge: there's a cross-continuity reference in this chapter to The Kane Chronicles (Rick Riordan's other mythology series, for those who don't know). Find it!**

**Maecenas out.**


	10. The Oracle at Delphi Buys us Pizza

**Disclaimer: I do not own the works of Rick Riordan, Greek mythological tradition, or any of the derivatives thereof, save for this story.**

**All right, so I was a day off, but an update every weekend is still pretty good for me, right? Please, join us as the quest begins to unfold at last…**

* * *

It only seemed like another second before the three of us were all packed up and ready to leave. In reality, it was about an hour, but I barely remember any of it—just sort of a general rush of last-minute advice from my siblings, packing useful books, weapons, and heavy winter clothes, and so on. The next thing I knew, Ashley, Biagio, and I were at the base of Half-Blood Hill, saying our final goodbyes before heading off into the unknown.

"I know it's all pretty terrifying, but you'll do fine," Annabeth promised me, shaking my hand. "Thinking, and planning, and fighting, out there in the world…" she stared wistfully off down the country road that ran past the camp—"That's what we were born for, really. Good luck."

"Careful out there, you guys!" Flint Greenbaum warned good-naturedly, his fedora at its usual jaunty angle. "After I went to all that trouble saving your lives, you'd better hang on to them."

I realized that he had a point—if it hadn't been for him, we wouldn't have made it to camp at all. As dangerous as our current situation was, I still preferred it to being in the stomach of a manticore, and I had Flint to thank for that.

"Look, Flint," I said, my voice cracking with emotion, "Thanks for getting us to camp. I'm really grateful to you for that." The satyr saluted in return.

"Flint…" said Biagio in the same emotionally charged tone I'd used. "The eighties called. They want their clothes back."

* * *

I was still snickering at that, maybe a little hysterical from the tension of the whole situation, when I noticed Melanie Adams walking purposefully towards me. I was a little surprised to see her—I hadn't noticed her earlier among the various camp residents who'd gathered to see us off—but I was certainly happy about it. Initially, I'd wondered if she'd basically jumped on me out of some mistaken impression, but for whatever reason, she seemed to have taken a genuine liking to me. I tend not to make friends very easily, so this was something of a welcome change.

Besides, as I believe I've mentioned before, Melanie is…well, she's _hot, _and I have to admit that I was glad to see her in my capacity of a teenage male, as well.

Melanie said her goodbyes to Biagio in a small blizzard of friendly insults ("Don't die _too _quickly out there; you'll make me lose my bet"; "I look forward to returning and seeing just how pathetic Cabin Ten has become without me there," etc.), then wandered over to me. Her footsteps crunched on the new carpet of fallen pine needles, and I noticed she was wearing a thick sweater and mittens to combat the cold.

"So…" she said eventually, then drifted off into silence.

"Yeah," I agreed eloquently.

"You know, I was actually going to volunteer to go along on this quest," she informed me out of the blue (or out of the gray, in that day's weather). "I mean, I really wanted to do something to help out with all this, and I think I would've been good on your team. Children of Aphrodite are a lot tougher than you'd think."

I glanced over at the only other child of Aphrodite I knew, who appeared to be trying to shave with a three-foot-long sword, and nodded.

I felt a little bad about what Melanie had said—in my rush to "follow my instincts" and get Ashley and Biagio to accompany me, I hadn't even given any thought to who else I could possibly include on the quest.

"I'm really sorry about that," I told her, not really knowing what to say (and hoping she didn't think I meant I was sorry about children of Aphrodite being tougher). I could feel my face burning red against the cold. Again.

She smiled a little wistfully. "It's okay, Jason. You didn't even know I wanted to go along, and besides, there's enough for me to do right here at camp. The dryads are going to need all the help they can get, the activities will still be running like normal, and, well…" her eyes sparkled. "You'll need something to make you look forward to getting back home from this quest, won't you?"

And that was when she threw her arms around me and kissed me right on the mouth.

Believe me, however surprised you were at reading that sentence, I was more surprised living it.

I would later remember that after this incident, Melanie said something like "Take care of yourself out there" and wandered back up Half-Blood Hill.

At the time, my only thoughts went along the lines of "Oh my gods oh my gods did that REALLY just happen oh my gods my first kiss Biagio's never going to let me hear the end of this oh my gods" on constant repeat, with maybe a little more "Oh my gods" thrown in there for sufficient emphasis.

Just about the only thing that could have surprised me after _THAT _would have been Dionysus showing up personally to say goodbye. Apparently the gods wanted me to stay surprised for some reason, because the next thing I saw was a familiar leopardskin-shirt-clad god stumbling down the hill.

It was strange enough seeing the director out of the Big House at all. Even though he was technically Chiron's superior, in the month or so I'd been at camp, I'd never seen him, well, _do _anything. According to my siblings in the Athena Cabin, he spent just about all of his time indoors, misery-drinking endless Diet Cokes, playing Pac-Man, and tying up the camp's only computer by leaving long, complicated posts on wine-connoisseur forums.

But what was even weirder about the god of wine's sudden appearance was the fact that he looked somehow _different. _The few times I'd met Mr. D in the past, he'd always sported a dark black beard (yes, _dark _black), but now it was gone altogether, leaving him totally clean-shaven. Perhaps it was just the effects of the shave, but his face looked altered as well.

Despite the changes in his appearance, the really uncooperative look in Mr. D's eyes was still the same. "So, you three are off to save the world, eh?" he asked us, the sentence swallowed by a yawn at the end. "How enthralling." Even his voice sounded subtly different—there were traces of an accent I didn't recognize.

A rumble of voices ran through the small crowd that was present. Evidently, most of them were as surprised to see the director as I was. "Mr. D?" Annabeth asked, sounding bewildered.

He focused blearily on her. "You're that Annie girl who was kidnapped by Atlas a few years ago, right? Well, I haven't the faintest idea who you're talking about. Mr. D, indeed! I'm _Bacchus. _The god of wine. Surely you've heard of me?"

He was giving Annabeth a dangerous look, and she was quick to say, "Yes, sir," but he turned away disinterestedly. "Where was I? Oh, yes, you three. Jasper, Giancarlo and Amy, isn't it? Well, I can't deny I like the idea of three less of you brats hanging around, but if you die on this quest, the mortality rate is going to make me look bad. Besides, if you don't get that wearisome Titan to give Persephone back, Zeus might make me take over as the god of flowers. I keep telling him, I only work with vine-bearing plants, but does he listen? Noooo! So I guess I really should give you some pearls of wisdom to be on the safe side."

Mr…I mean _Bacchus _scratched his lack of a beard while the three of us stared at each other in confusion.

I'd been getting a lot of advice lately, and I was guessing that the same was true of my companions. Still, as quirky as he was, Bacchus was at least a god. That had to count for something, right?

"I'd watch out for Romans, if I were you," Bacchus said abruptly. "I'm afraid that not all of them are as kindly and helpful as yours truly. Besides, they just will _not _appreciate that bubbly reds are going to be the next big thing…"

"Barbarians," said Annabeth sardonically. Bacchus nodded in agreement, apparently not picking up on the sarcasm.

"Oh, and I hope none of you are allergic to large, predatory mammals," he added. "I grew up with leopards and tigers, you know. That lingering threat of being chewed up at any moment is good for youths like yourselves!"

I was still trying to make sense out of that very random speech when Bacchus went _poof,_ disappearing in a cloud of purple smoke that made me a little tipsy just smelling it.

I turned to face Ashley and Biagio, who both looked like I felt: like they wanted to track down Bacchus and yell, "WHAT THE HECK WAS THAT?"

"Tigers," said Ashley instead in a small voice, shaking her head in a very overwhelmed manner. "Romans and tigers."

I headed for the van, kicking up more dead pine needles. "Let's get going before anyone else gives us good advice, shall we?"

* * *

Getting into the van immediately stirred up memories. It was a white "Delphi Strawberry Service" vehicle just like the one Biagio and I had arrived in – although, given the lack of manticore-spike damage, I was guessing it was an identical copy. Once again, Argus was driving, and once again there was a disguised part-human seated in the back of the van. This time, though, instead of Flint, it was Chiron, clad in his wheelchair disguise and fancy dark brown suit coat.

"I need to speak to our Oracle myself, so I decided it would be convenient to accompany you," he explained. "Besides, Miss Dare's school tends to be rather, ah …" he paused, apparently searching for the right word – "_exclusive_, and I might be able to help explain your presence there."

I nodded uncertainly. I wasn't exactly sure what he was talking about; but then again, I was used to that by now. It looked like my only option was to wait and see.

Biagio, Ashley, and I clicked our seatbelts just as Argus threw the van into gear, and in a moment we were rumbling away from Half-Blood Hill.

The windows were tinted slightly, so I caught only indistinct glimpses of my new home as it receded into the distance. I didn't know when I would see the camp again, but I hoped that by the time I returned, the dying trees would be restored, the unnatural winter would be gone, and everything would be back to normal.

_Come to think of it, though,_ I realized, _that's sort of up to us, isn't it?_

* * *

It was a pretty long drive to get to the Oracle at Delphi, who was apparently now the Oracle at Connecticut. Chiron, apparently sensing our nervousness, didn't say much, beyond explaining that the spirit of the Delphic Oracle had been hosted by a mortal girl since ancient times. Then, in 1945, Hades had cursed the oracle, forcing its spirit to live in a petrified mummy for decades. Last summer, Chiron concluded, the curse had been broken, and the old tradition of a mortal host had begun again.

I supposed that talking to another person would be a lot better than chatting with a semi-active mummy, but I was still uneasy about this prophecy business. I remembered an old story about the oracle: a Greek king had once asked her whether or not he should wage a war, and got a vague answer about how if he did, "A great kingdom would fall." So the slightly dense monarch had gone on his merry way, never suspecting that the doomed kingdom was his own…

For what felt like hours, the only sound to be heard was the rush of tires on the highway asphalt. All three of us seemed to be too absorbed in our own very nervous thoughts to say a word. Yes, even Biagio.

Finally, the journey abruptly ended. Argus threw on the brakes, jumped out of the van and opened the passenger doors, lowering a wheelchair ramp for Chiron.

As Biagio, Ashley, and I got out of the van, we all broke the silence by saying "whoa" more or less simultaneously. The reason for this was the building we'd stopped in front of: it was enormous, all glittering windows and red roofs, somewhere on that fine line between "castle" and "mansion."

Biagio didn't look quite as impressed with the massive estate as Ashley or I were, which wasn't surprising – judging from how expensive all of his clothes were, the place probably reminded him of his own house. But my dad, no matter how well-off he is, is still the all-nighters-of-programming-in-a-dingy-basement type, and my mom is, well, Athena, so my house isn't terribly impressive. I hadn't been expecting our destination to be nearly so grandiose.

"Allow me to present Clarion Ladies' Academy," Chiron announced as he slowly descended from the van. "It is one of the nation's relatively few remaining finishing schools, dedicated to training young women in the arts of elegance and social grace. But more importantly for us, it is the current home of our oracle. Please, follow me."

With that, he wheeled up to the massive iron gate that enclosed the campus, removed a key from a pocket in his coat and opened it, motioning us inside.

I wasn't exactly sure that such a high-end institution was going to let us just stroll in, especially since it was a girls' school and most of us were guys, but Chiron was headed resolutely for the front door. I shrugged and jogged after him, the others following me.

The disguised centaur had a head start on us, and by the time we caught up, he was already wrapping up a conversation with an austere-looking woman dressed in gray. She gave us a look of chilly disapproval, but nodded and pulled open the double front doors.

"Please, come in," she invited us, her words ringing with precise efficiency. "I will inform Miss Dare of your arrival."

I glanced at Ashley, who raised her eyebrows in surprise. Whatever Chiron had said, it had certainly been effective. The three of us headed into the school, our footsteps echoing hauntingly on the marble floor.

* * *

Perhaps it was just the cold weather, or the fact that I was already nervous, but my first impression of Clarion Ladies' Academy was that it was kind of creepy.

Demeter's curse of winter was part of it, as well: what normally would have been rows of perfectly trimmed hedges out front were now devoid of leaves entirely, looking more like skeletons clawing at the sky to my overactive imagination. The school building loomed menacingly above it all, several stories of frozen bricks and chilly cement.

The interior just made my spine tingle even more. For one thing, it was _way_ too quiet. My school back in Philadelphia is usually noisy enough to make rock concerts look tame (even when Flint isn't playing electric guitar at lunch), but Clarion's halls were almost totally silent.

We passed a fair number of students, all of whom were wearing a fancy uniform and walking briskly to some classroom or other. I'd expected us to draw a large amount of odd looks given how much we stood out, but most of the girls walking by hardly even glanced at us. I noticed Biagio starting to look wounded – evidently, we'd finally found a place where his lethally flirty grin had no effect at all.

We took several sharp turns down various narrow hallways, Chiron leading the way, and eventually found ourselves in a part of the school that clearly held the dorms.

Muttering the room numbers under his breath, Chiron slowly wheeled down the row of identical doors, then stopped, apparently having found what he was looking for. By the time Ashley, Biagio, and I had caught up to him again (Chiron can really move pretty fast in that wheelchair), he'd knocked and the door had been opened from within.

The dorm could not possibly have been more different from the rest of the school. For one thing, it was amazingly messy, even more cluttered that the Athena cabin. Clothes, books, pillow, and seemingly endless sheets of paper were scattered throughout the room like a hurricane had swept through, and the walls were covered with drawings: portraits of gods, monsters, and orange-shirted half-bloods, many captioned in scrawling lines of Ancient Greek. A very strange techno-ish song blared from an iPod somewhere in the room.

Ashley, who'd been looking increasingly uncomfortable about the frosty austerity of the school, visibly relaxed and suddenly looked right at home. "Oh, this is _way_ more like it," I heard her say to herself.

The girl who ran over from the bunk bed to greet us looked like the personification of the dorm's happy chaos. Her hair was frizzy and bright, bright red, and she was wearing a tie-dyed t-shirt and jeans like Ashley's, covered with random marker designs. I would have guessed that she was about Biagio's age, abut she had none of his swanky formality, that was for sure.

I briefly wondered if Clarion's focus on manners and respectability made _all_ of the students rebel like this, but pushed the thought aside as the dorm's inhabitant shook my hand.

"Hi, I'm Rachel Elizabeth Dare; you might know me as the spooky oracle," she announced, a gleam of humor in her eyes. "And you're … let me see if I can remember right … Biagio, Jason, and Ashley, right? I got an Iris-message from camp about you guys yesterday."

As she said this, her grin suddenly grew downright wicked. "You know, I kind of hope that one of these days my roommate will walk in on me using the power of the rainbow goddess to talk to a vision in the air. Just to see her face."

I didn't know about the others, but I was more than a little overwhelmed by Rachel Elizabeth Dare. My mildly dyslexic brain was still sorting out her lightning-quick introduction as she ushered us into the room.

"Make yourselves at home," she invited us warmly. "I got a couple of pizzas delivered right to the dorm – you can help yourselves. And please, tell me more about this quest!"

The word _pizza_ gets my attention better than almost any other, and as Rachel spoke I noticed the stack of delicious-smelling boxes in one corner. As the last traces of fear melted away, I suddenly realized that I was really hungry.

All in all, I decided, my meeting with the oracle was turning out a lot better than I'd expected.

* * *

By the time I'd finished telling Rachel the whole story about Krios and Persephone, Chiron adding some helpful clarifications, six slices had disappeared.

Rachel frowned thoughtfully, leaning forward to stare at each of us in turn. "Well, a god or goddess being kidnapped is hardly unusual, although Demeter causing this weather is going to be a problem. But Krios being the kidnapper – now _that's_ unusual. He was never exactly a leader among the Titans-more like one of those names way down at the end of a list. And with the giants attacking now, and the fact that we already beat the Titans last summer …" she shook her head, looking uncertain. "Like I said, that's unusual."

"Jason mentioned that, too," volunteered Biagio, who was sprawled unceremoniously on a bean bag chair in the corner. "Couldn't Krios just be working for the giants – especially if all the other Titans are dead or whatever now?"

I noticed that he alone hadn't touched the pizza, which was typical of him – his standards about Italian food are absurdly high, and there are all of three pizzerias in Philly that he deigns to visit. Personally I thought this was ridiculous, but was grateful that it meant I got another slice.

"Titans and giants working together …" mused Rachel. "Sounds kind of unlikely, but I suppose that finding out is part of your quest. So that means … prophecy."

And with that, she promptly fainted, slumping in her chair with her eyes closed. I immediately dropped my slice of pizza, Ashley gasped, and Biagio jumped up from the beanbag. Only Chiron remained as he was, a grim expression on his face.

And that was when the _really_ freaky part started.

With a hissing noise like an ancient, murderous snake, a dark green mist began to fill the air around Rachel. The eerie fog swelled for a few moments, beginning to fill the room, then separated into four distinct columns with a rush of wind.

Before our eyes, the smoky columns bubbled and writhed, gradually changing shape, beginning to look … human. Well, not human exactly: the first apparition had furry legs and hooves. The smoky, green ghost of a satyr.

But not just _any_ old spectral, dark green satyr-thing, oh no. This one had a flannel shirt and a fedora. It was Flint, or at least a nightmarish vision of him.

The Flintlike entity spoke in a scratchy, raspy voice, like it was dissolving right as it was speaking. _"The Alphas Three shall journey forth as stars and heroes rise and fall,"_ it hissed, an echo reverberating behind the words.

The next smoky figure stepped up, towering to the ceiling of the dorm: a shadowy Chiron_. "With War and Death shall meet, and beasts released by Titan's hands to maul,"_ it told Ashley, who looked more pale than ever.

The third apparition resembled Mr. D, but fatter and without a beard, like we'd seen him that morning. _"The scorpion shall guide your way to heed the captive goddess' call,"_ he told Biagio, who crashed back down onto the beanbag chair in response.

I didn't recognize the last figure at all. It was tall and thin, and a darker green than the others had been. Its serpentine voice sounded horribly menacing as it leaned towards me: _"Where ancient and the new must meet, within the dreaded forest hall."_

The last word dissolved into a torrent of whispery echoes, and the four ghosts were gone as quickly as they'd appeared. The last of the green smoke quickly faded to nothing.

I blinked, hardly able to believe the bright colors of Rachel's dorm after what I'd just seen. The next thing I realized was that the entire prophecy somehow remained perfectly in my memory, as though it was a song stuck in my head.

Rachel's eyes flew open, and she sat bolt upright. "Well there you are. Sorry about that, by the way – " she took in our white faces and fear-shattered expressions – "The visions are never exactly fun. But at least now you know what to expect on your quest."

I mulled this over. Given that the ingredients the prophecy had mentioned included war, death, a dreaded forest hall and a scorpion, our quest was not sounding all that promising.

Chiron stoked his beard pensively. "The phrasing is unusual," he said eventually, "but 'The Alphas Three' must refer to the three of you: children of Athena, Apollo, and Aphrodite. Meeting with war and death …" he scowled. "It could refer to an actual war, of course, but the Greeks had a habit of referring to some gods by the ides they represent. The Furies, the Graces, and so on. I wonder …"

But whatever he wondered, he wasn't about to share it with us. A heavy silence settled over the dorm.

All of us, including Rachel, jumped slightly as a sudden knock on the door rang out in the waiting air. "Rachel?" asked a female voice, in an accent even more affected than the British one Biagio had once used.

The Oracle cursed under her breath in Ancient Greek. "Roommate," she explained in a whisper. "You'd better go – I can think of some explanation for her." She hurriedly shook our hands again, a tight smile on her face. "I wish you all luck on the quest. I hope the prophecy helps you."

And with that, she threw open the door.

A tall girl with amber-colored hair swept into the room, noticed the three of us and Chiron standing there, and made a sound halfway between a gasp and a scream, her eyes wide. "RACHEL!" she hissed, sounding utterly scandalized. "What are you _doing_?"

Rachel looked up at her innocently. "Cindy, I already told you about my extra Latin classes with Mr. Brunner. Don't you remember?"

Ashley was the first to take advantage of Cindy's confused silence to quickly head for the door, and Biagio wasn't far behind. I started to follow them, then looked uncertainly back at "Mr. Brunner", who hadn't budged from his spot in the corner of the dorm.

"You three go on," he said loudly, making shooing motions with one hand. "I must speak to Miss Dare further about, ah … the hortatory subjunctive."

And that, I supposed, was that. I strolled quickly past a still-spluttering Cindy and out into the hallway, closing the door behind me.

* * *

Ashley and Biagio both turned toward me with nervous expressions, and I won't pretend I wasn't pretty unnerved myself. It was clear that the time for explanations and advice was over. From now on, we were going to be absolutely on our own. And the idea that I was in charge of it all … well, that still made me feel sick to my stomach.

I inhaled shakily, all too aware that it didn't matter whether any of us were ready for this or not. "Come on," I told Ashley and Biagio, trying to sound brave, "Let's head back to the van."

We numbly made our way back through the quiet, ornate hallways, reaching the front doors in what felt like no time at all. Biagio pulled them open without saying a word, and the three of us stumbled out onto the chilly grounds.

And that was when we saw the goat.

* * *

**I don't want to speak too highly of myself or anything, but I think I may have just created the best cliffhanger ending in literary history. Where on Earth (or elsewhere!) is this going? You'll find out next weekend, with the publication of the chapter fittingly entitled "The Goat Gets Us!"**

**Sorry again about the one-day delay. I thought I just had a little more of this to type, but I grossly misjudged the amount, and…yeah. Also, homecoming week really takes a lot out of you. Updates every weekend are still on, though, never fear!**

**I really enjoyed writing Rachel Elizabeth Dare. She's one of my favorite characters in the series, and I always wondered just what sort of hilarity would ensue with her attending Clarion. Hopefully I provided a satisfactory answer to that question!**

**What do you make of the Oracle's prophecy? What of the exciting new development in Jason's love life? And just what is going on with Mr. D? The answers are forthcoming…**

**Stay tuned as always!**

**Maecenas Out.**


	11. The Goat Almost Gets Us

**Disclaimer: I do not own the works of Rick Riordan or those of Greek Mythology.**

**I do own a Stetson.**

**I'm fine with that state of affairs.**

* * *

Though unusual, the idea of a goat on a finishing school's lawn is more funny than ominous, or so you might think at first.

Then this might be a good time for me to mention that the goat in question was roughly thirty feet tall. The thing seemed to take up most of the front lawn, but its massive head was only a few feet away from us, its yellow eyes glowing unnaturally as it chewed up vast chunks of the shrubbery.

And I'd hate to leave out the fact that it happened to be half sea monster, as well. The goat part ended somewhere around the creature's bloated stomach, turning abruptly into a tail bristling with spiky green serpentine fins, a tail longer than an eighteen-wheeler.

_That_ was what we saw the moment we stepped out of Clarion's doors, so you can see how "goat" doesn't convey quite the correct image.

All of my nerves were tingling with panic, but I forced myself, against every instinct, not to move. All of our weapons were in the van with Argus, and this mer-goat monstrosity was blocking our route back to the van. Maybe we could duck back into the school before it spotted us, I thought wildly, but that felt like a long shot.

I have no idea even now of what I could've possibly done, but as it turned out, the decision was taken out of my hands. Mumbling something Italian that probably translated to "Oh my gods a giant goat," Biagio nervously backed up a few steps, crashing right into Ashley, who fell onto me, sending the three of us tumbling awkwardly onto the cement steps with a noise that I was sure would catch the monster's attention.

Unfortunately, my assumption was correct. With a bizarre sort of gurgling, rumbling noise, the mer-goat raised its head quickly, looking for the source of the sound. I scrambled back to my feet, getting ready to run if I could, and around me my companions did the same.

But apparently, the giant goat didn't want to make an attack at all. To my immense surprise it turned sharply away from the school building and began to half trot, half slither towards a river that cut through the campus.

I hadn't even noticed the river before – when you're right in front of something very tall like a finishing school or a goat, it usually commands your whole attention – but I was certainly grateful for its presence now. With an almighty splash that sent freezing water fountaining up to Clarion's second-story windows, the mer-goat jumped into the murky waterway. In seconds, it had vanished altogether, leaving only the destroyed hedges as a reminder of its presence.

Biagio explosively let out the breath he'd apparently been holding. "Okay. Let me be the first to ask … what the heck was THAT?"

Yet again, I frantically ransacked my knowledge of Greek mythology in search of the answer, but it wasn't long before I gave up. I was pretty sure that if I'd read about and enormous, half-serpentine goat before, I would've remembered it.

All I could do was shrug in puzzled, helpless defeat. "Well, I have no idea either," said Ashley, who seemed to be forcing herself to sound calm, "but let's get out of here before it comes back, okay?"

Biagio and I quickly took her advice, and the three of us walked back down the brick path that led to the gates. We all started moving more and more quickly with every step, clearly still pretty freaked out, until finally we were racing each other to the van.

By the time we'd thrown ourselves back into our seats, our subconscious minds still trying to convince us that we were being pursued, we were all red-faced and gasping for breath. Argus raised his eyebrows at that – _all_ of them; his whole body seemed to sort of scrunch upward a few inches – but, as usual, said nothing and threw the van into gear.

The gates swung open with an extremely eerie screech, and the van rumbled through unimpeded. In seconds, we were back on the open road – leaving Chiron, the oracle, a few slices of pizza, and a giant goat behind.

* * *

On that May morning, I reminded myself several hours later, I'd seen the curse of Demeter cause winter in the middle of spring. I'd witnessed foggy ghosts of the past delivering a mysterious prophecy. And of course, there was our utterly inexplicable friend the giant goat.

So WHY, I demanded of life in general, after all of that, did the _car rental place_ feel so weird?

_It's because it's such a contrast with Camp Half-Blood and all of the mythology stuff,_ I reasoned. _You've been living in one world for a month, so now the other one takes some getting used to._

Even if I could explain it, the adjustment was still knocking me for a loop. Looking at my surroundings – a small, gray room with fluorescent lighting, a counter with several uniformed representatives behind it, and a row of mildly comfortable chairs – it seemed downright impossible that the Greek gods could exist in the same world.

Zeus … car rentals … Zeus … car rentals … I still felt like only one of them at a time could be "reality", as amusing as it might be to imagine the Lord of the Skies striding in, clad in a toga and sandals, to borrow a Hummer.

We'd been officially on our own for just under half an hour. Argus had dropped us off here – a car rental at the outskirts of Hartford – and driven off again, presumably to retrieve Chiron from Clarion Ladies' Academy and return to camp.

Biagio stood at the counter, talking to one of the representatives about getting us a vehicle. Ashley was packing the tiny room restlessly, a troubled expression on her face. And as I've already mentioned, I was seated in one of the chairs in the center, struggling with our sudden return to the mortal world.

At first we'd been the only customers in the place, but after a few minutes, the bell on the door chimed and another man strode in. I glanced up at the new arrival with interest. He was definitely the kind of guy that caught your attention. He was powerfully built and immensely tall – I was guessing he even had a few inches on Biagio, and his bulkiness suggested the musculature of a bodybuilder. His skin was so tanned, weathered and scarred that he looked like he'd been carved out of driftwood. He was bald, but possessed a bristly three-day beard.

On the whole, the newcomer looked pretty threatening. I sort of hoped he wouldn't notice us in particular, that he would just order a car and go on his way, but my bad luck held out. Ignoring the counter and representatives altogether, he collapsed onto a chair right next to mine.

An awkward silence filled the cramped room, broken only by Biagio's continuing discussion with the woman behind the counter. Whoever this guy was, he was even scarier up close. There was a strange intensity in his eyes, and he exuded a salty smell I didn't recognize.

Ashley stopped pacing and glanced over in our direction, looking concerned. As for the salty giant, he stared through the shop windows for a few moments, not moving at all, then spoke suddenly.

"If I was guessing," he muttered in a deep, rough voice, "I would way that the three of you are setting out on a quest. Am I right?"

A jolt of surprise shot through me, and I did a slight double take. I'd assumed that this guy was a regular mortal, but apparently I could never take that for granted again. I was so startled that I nodded before it even occurred to me that maybe I shouldn't be giving out that kind of information so freely.

The giant nodded extremely slowly, and I somehow sensed that he'd already known the answer. "Dangerous times to be a demigod out there in the world," he muttered. "Things are changing, see. The world is a different place now than it was not so long ago. New friends … new enemies."

He grinned suddenly, and it was one of the creepiest facial expressions I've ever seen. "You'll have choices to make, Jason, oh yes," the giant wheezed. "Make sure you choose wisely … or you might find the ground falling right out from under your feet."

Before I had a chance to respond to what he'd just said – and while I was still wondering how on earth he know my name – the giant stood up abruptly and strode out of the building. The door gave another cheerful little _ding_ as he left, and silence fell again.

Ashley darted over from the corner of the store and took the seat that the stranger had left. "What was that about?" she asked me, sounding about as unnerved as I felt.

All I had was my now-trademark helpless shrug. "Don't ask me! He just walked in, acted all mysterious and threatening, then disappeared like one minute later. All I know is that he knew we were on a quest."

Ashley shook her head. "It's all kind of scary, isn't it? We don't even have any real idea of what's going on, and there are gods and Titans and everything out there. How can we even do _anything?_"

I kind of agreed with her, unfortunately, but I knew that this was the part where I was supposed to say something reassuring. "It's going to be okay. You know, we're half god ourselves, and we have magical weapons, and nectar and ambrosia, and…stuff like that. I think we can do this."

I didn't exactly sound too inspiring, but Ashley laughed, looking a lot more cheerful than she had a second ago. "Thanks, Jason. And don't worry, even though we're both totally freaked out about it, Biagio and I are still with you all the way."

That happened to be the moment when Biagio left the counter and came strutting back to us. He was twirling a car key around and looked way too pleased with himself (as usual).

"All right, I got us one pretty sweet ride!" he announced. "We're gonna be doing this quest in style …" he paused, finally taking in our expressions. "Okay, what's up with you two?"

I shot him a look, but as far as I could tell, he was serious. "You mean … you didn't notice any of that?" demanded Ashley, narrowly beating me to saying the exact same thing.

Cue "Bewildered Biagio™" expression. "Any of _what?_" he asked innocently.

I sighed, "Never mind. Let's hit the road."

* * *

As we made our final preparations – retrieving our weapons from where we'd stashed them behind the car rental place, having a brief swordfight over who got to choose the radio station and loading all of our supplies into the car – I couldn't ignore the tingly feeling of anticipation that was growing on me. I'd spent so much time before this quest planning, thinking, and mostly worrying about it all, and now here we were. Riding bravely off into the unknown hadn't exactly been my style before, but I could tell that if I wanted to be a hero, I'd have to step way outside my comfort zone pretty often.

Biagio's choice of car was pretty helpful, though. I was once again grateful for his father's huge amounts of money – the pocket change he'd given his son for the quest had snagged us a sleek, modern-looking black Corvette. Everyone's favorite son of Aphrodite was already behind the wheel, wearing sunglasses and an insane bad-boy grin that I was sure was going to make even Krios think twice about messing with him.

I settled into the shotgun seat, appreciating the cool, finely molded leather of the interior, and Ashley squeezed into the back (we'd agreed to switch placed every other day).

Biagio produced the keys and dramatically held them in place by the ignition. "All right, heroes … ARE WE READY?"

"Ready," said Ashley and I simultaneously. My heart was pounding, but instead of my usual fear, I felt almost excited. I had to admit, it was pretty nice to think of myself as a hero – the next generation of a tradition that included Perseus, Odysseus and Heracles. Who could tell what adventures might await us, out there in the world?

Biagio raised his eyebrows. "Oooh, finishing each other's sentences already, you two? This will be an interesting trip, indeed!"

While we were both going red in the face, Biagio slammed the key into the ignition and turned on the radio. His strange European rock-'n-roll suddenly blasted from the speakers as we cruised out of the car-rental parking lot and hit the road.

Guitar chords filled the air with promises of adventure as the Corvette roared down the highway, headed due south. Looking back, I'm glad I didn't realize just how soon trouble was going to find us.

* * *

**AND WE HAVE LIFTOFF! I'm happy to say that after truly massive amounts of exposition and preparation, Jason Williams is now on his quest. Next weekend's update will be a return to Poketopia, but after that, expect the adventures to kick into high gear! I don't think anyone expects what I have in store…but as Jason has hinted, trouble is on the horizon.**

**Sorry if the chapter was a little bit shorter than normal, but this one was sort of a transition from the Oracle to hitting the road. Hopefully it was fast-paced and exciting, and I gave you enough mysteries to mull over. The giant goat, and the mysterious salty giant…all will be revealed in time…**

**I think some people might be able to guess the goat's identity (which is tied to a MAJOR component of this book's plot) with the aid of a little Google Fu. I let the challenge stand! As for the giant, well, that might be a little less easy to divine, but all will be revealed in time (sound familiar)?**

**Also, please note that I have a new and improved profile page! Check it out and enjoy the virtual equivalent of that new car smell.**

**Thank you all for reading thus far! See you soon…**

**Maecenas out.**

**(P.S. for those who don't know, the Stetson is a particularly awesome style of Western hat.)**


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